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ROLF IN THE WOODS 



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Skookum and the porcupine 



Ro^jNTHEWoom 

The ADVENTURES o/a^iJi 
5C0UT mtA INDIAN QUONAB 
tfWUTTLE DOG SKOOKUM 

OVER TWO HUNDRED DRAWINGS 




Written&filitstrdted 

EmEsrlifOMPsoN 5£P0N 

AmHOKovyi^WAmmd/s///dyeAhou//r ^TwoLitfie 

Soya$es"jBiqgrdpJh^ of a Grizzly ""jLi^e/fistories 

of Northern Animals'* 

Naturalist to the Government ^Maniiom, 
Chief Scout, Boy 3couts o^America. 

Garden C\\y New York 

Doubleday P^^e &^ Company 

^ MCMXI 




AIX RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION 
n-ITO FOREIGN LANGUAGES. INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN 



COPYRIGHT, IQII, BY ERNEST THOMPSON SETON 



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(g;di!A2i)2r>48 



TO THE 

BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA 



Preface 

In this story I have endeavoured to realize some of the 
influences that surrounded the youth of America a hundred 
years ago, and made of them, first, good citizens, and, later, 
in the day of peril, heroes that won the battles of Lake 
Erie, Plattsburg, and New Orleans, and the great sea fights 
of Porter, Bainbridge, Decatur, Lawrence, Perry, and 
MacDonough. 

I have especially dwelt in detail on the woodland and 
peace scouting in the hope that I may thus help other boys 
to follow the hard-climbing trail that leads to the higher 
uplands. 

For the historical events of 1812-14, I have consulted 
among books chiefly, Theodore Roosevelt's "Naval War 
of 181 2, " Peter S. Palmer's "History of Lake Champlain, " 
and Walter Hill Crockett's "A History of Lake Cham- 
plain," 1909. But I found another and more personal 
mine of information. Through the kindness of my friend, 
Edmund Seymour, a native of the Champlain region, now 
a resident of New York, I went over all the historical 
ground with several unpublished manuscripts for guides, 
and heard from the children of the sturdy frontiersmen 
new tales of the war; and in getting more light and vivid 
personal memories, I was glad, indeed, to realize that not 
only were there valour and heroism on both sides, but also 



Preface 

gentleness and courtesy. Histories written by either party 
at the time should be laid aside. They breathe the ran- 
courous hate of the writers of the age — the fighters felt 
not so — and the many incidents given here of chivalry 
and consideration were actual happenings, related to me 
by the descendants of those who experienced them; and 
all assure me that these were a true reflex of the feelings 
of the day. 

I am much indebted to Miss Katherine Palmer, of 
Plattsburg, for kindly allowing me to see the unpublished 
manuscript memoir of her grandfather, Peter Sailly, who 
was Collector of the Port of Plattsburg at the time of 
the war. 

Another purpose in this story was to picture the real 
Indian with his message for good or for evil. 

Those who know nothing of the race will scoff and say 
they never heard of such a thing as a singing and religious 
red man. Those who know him well, will say, ^'Yes, but 
you have given to your eastern Indian songs and cere- 
monies which belong to the western tribes, and which are 
of different epochs." To the latter I reply: 

"You know that the western Indians sang and prayed 
in this way. How do you know that the eastern ones did 
not? We have no records, except those by critics, savagely 
hostile, and contemptuous of all religious observances 
but their own. The Ghost Dance Song belonged to a 
much more recent time, no doubt, but it was purely Indian, 
and it is generally admitted that the races of continental 
North America were of one stock, and had no funda- 
mentally different customs or modes of thought." | 

viii J 

] 



ii 



Preface 

The Sunrise Song was given me by Frederick R. Burton, 
author of ^'American Primitive Music." It is still in 
use among the Ojibwa. 

The songs of the Wabanaki may be read in C. G. Le- 
land's ''Kuloskap the Master." 

The Ghost Dance Song was furnished by Alice C. 
Fletcher, whose "Indian Song and Story" will prove a 
revelation to those who wish to follow further. 

Ernest Thompson Seton. 



IX 



CONTENTS 



I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 



PAGE 

The Wigwam Under the Rock 3 

Rolf Kittering and the Soldier Uncle ... 6 

Rolf Catches a Coon and Finds a Friend . 12 

The Coon Hunt Makes Trouble for Rolf . 15 

Good-bye to Uncle Mike 20 

Skookum Accepts Rolf at Last 23 

Memory's Harp and the Indian Drum . . 27 
The Law of Property Among Our Four- 
footed Kin 32 

Where the Bow Is Better than the Gun . . 36 

Rolf Works Out with Many Results ... 41 

The Thunder Storm and the Fire Sticks . 45 

Hunting the Woodchucks 49 

The Fight with the Demon of the Deep . . 53 

Selectman Horton Appears at the Rock . . 60 

Bound for the North Woods 65 

Life with the Dutch Settler 73 

Canoeing on the Upper Hudson .... 79 

Animal Life Along the River 87 

The Footprint on the Shore 91 

The Trapper's Cabin 94 

Rolf's First Deer 97 

The Line of Traps 104 

The Beaver Pond 107 

The Porcupine no 

The Otter Slide 114 

Back to the Cabin 120 

Sick Dog Skookum 123 

Alone in the Wilderness 126 

xi 



xii Contents 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIX. Snowshoes 132 

XXX. Catching a Fox 136 

XXXI. Following the Trap Line 141 

XXXII. The Antler-bound Bucks 145 

XXXIII. A Song of Praise 152 

XXXIV. The Birch-bark Vessels 154 

XXXV. Snaring Rabbits 160 

XXXVI. Something Wrong at the Beaver Traps . . 163 

XXXVII. The Pekan or Fisher 165 

XXXVIII. The SHver Fox 170 

XXXIX. The Humiliation of Skookum 174 

XL. The Rarest of Pelts 177 

XLI. The Enemy's Fort 181 

XLIL Skookum's Panther 186 

XLIIL Sunday in the Woods .190 

XLIV. The Lost Bundle of Furs 195 

XLV. The Subjugation of Hoag 200 

XL VI. Nursing Hoag 208 

XL VII. Hoag's Home-coming 213 

XL VIII. Rolf's Lesson in Trailing . 222 

XLIX. Rolf Gets Lost 228 

L. Marketing the Fur 238 

LI. Back at Van Trumper's 243 

LII. Annette's New Dress 247 

LIII. Travelling to the Great City 255 

LIV. Albany 259 

LV. The Rescue of Bill 266 

LVL The Sick Ox 270 

LVIL Rolf and Skookum at Albany 276 

LVIIL Back to Indian Lake ........ 282 

LIX. Van Cortlandt's Drugs 286 

LX. Van Cortlandt's Adventure 289 

LXI. Rolf Learns Something from \"an .... 294 

LXII. The Charm of Song 297 

LXIII. The Redemption of Van 302 

LXIV. Dinner at the Governor's 306 

LXV. The Grebes and the Singing Mouse . . . 313 



LXVI. 

LXVII. 

LXVIII. 

LXIX. 

LXX. 

LXXI. 

LXXII. 

LXXIII. 

LXXIV. 

LXXV. 

LXXVI. 

LXXVII. 

LXXVIII. 

LXXIX. 

LXXX. 

LXXXI. 

LXXXII. 

LXXXIII. 

LXXXIV. 

LXXXV. 

LXXXVI. 

LXXXVII. 



Contents xiii 

PAGE 

A Lesson in Stalking 318 

Rolf Meets a Canuck 322 

War 327 

Ogdensburg 333 

Saving the Despatches 339 

Sackett's Harbour 347 

Scouting Across Country 351 

Rolf Makes a Record 355 

Van Trumper's Again ' . 359 

Scouting in Canada 365 

The Duel 371 

Why Plattsburg was Raided 375 

Rumours and Papers 381 

McGlassin's Exploit 387 

The Bloody Saranac 392 

The Battle of Plattsburg . 396 

Scouting for Macomb 401 

The Last of Sir George Prevost .... 409 

Rolf Unmasks the Ambush 412 

The Hospital, the Prisoners, and Home . .419 

The New Era of Prosperity 427 

Quonab Goes Home 432 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Skookum and the Porcupine ....... Frontispiece 



FACING PAGE 



Securing the Muskrat 4 

The Sunrise Song 24 

The Farmers Did Not Like the Way Skookum Behaved 

Among Their Hens 68 

"Quonab, Quonab! Help Me!'' 150 

The Fox, Sinking Deep, Was Hopelessly Overmatched . 178 

For a While RoH Was Sunk in Despair 234 

Quonab Glided Swiftly Forward 320 

The Others Were Howling; Rolf Felt Afraid .... 352 

''Run! I'll Shoot Over Your Head" 372 

In the Chill, Dark Hour * * * He Heard the Sweet 

Music of Skookum's Bark 416 

Quonab Goes Home 436 



yv 



ROLF IN THE WOODS 



ft 



The Wigwam Under the Rock 

THE early springtime sunrise was near at hand as 
Quonab, the last of the Myanos Sinawa, stepped 
from his sheltered wigwam under the cliff that 
borders the Asamuk easterly, and, mounting to the lofty 
brow of the great rock that is its highest pinnacle, he 
stood in silence, awaiting the first ray of the sun over 
the sea water that stretches between Connecticut and 
Seawanaky. 

His silent prayer to the Great Spirit was ended as a 
golden beam shot from a long, low cloud-bank over the 
sea, and Quonab sang a weird Indian song for the rising 
sun, an invocation to the Day God: 

*"0 thou that risest from the low cloud 
To burn in the all above; 
I greet thee! I adore thee!" 

Again and again he sang to the tumming of a small 
tom-tom, till the great refulgent one had cleared the cloud, 
and the red miracle of the sunrise was complete. 

Back to his wigwam went the red man, down to his home 
tucked closed under the sheltering rock, and, after washing 
his hands in a basswood bowl, began to prepare his simple 
meal. 



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Rolf in the Woods 

A tin-lined copper pot hanging over the fire was partly 
filled with water; then, when it was boihng, some samp or 
powdered corn and some clams were stirred in. While 
these were cooking, he took his smooth-bore flint-lock, 
crawled gently over the ridge that screened his wigwam 
from the northwest wind, and peered with hawk-like 
eyes across the broad sheet of water that, held by a high 
beaver-dam, filled the little valley of Asamuk Brook. 

The winter ice was still on the pond, but in all the warm- 
ing shallows there was open water, on which were likely 
to be ducks. None were to be seen, but by the edge of the 
ice was a round object which, although so far away, he 
knew at a glance for a muskrat. 

By crawling around the pond, the Indian could easily 
have come within shot, but he returned at once to his 
wigwam, where he exchanged his gun for the weapons of 
his fathers, a bow and arrows, and a long fish-line. A 
short, quick stalk, and the muskrat, still eating aflagroot, 
was within thirty feet. The fish-line was coiled on the 
ground and then attached to an arrow, the bow bent — zip 
— the arrow picked up the line, coil after coil, and trans- 
fixed the muskrat. Splash ! and the animal was gone under 
the ice. 

But the cord was in the hands of the hunter; a little 
gentle pulling and the rat came to view, to be despatched 
with a stick and secured. Had he shot it with a gun, it 
had surely been lost. 

He returned to his camp, ate his frugal breakfast, and 
fed a small, wolfish-looking yellow dog that was tied in the 
lodge. He skinned the muskrat carefully, first cutting a 



The Wigwam Under the Rock 

slit across the rear and then turning the skin back like a 
^love, till it was off to the snout; a bent stick thrust into 
this held it stretched, till in a day, it was dry and ready for 
market. The body, carefully cleaned, he hung in the 
shade to furnish another meal. 

As he worked, there were sounds of trampling in the 
woods, and presently a tall, rough-looking man, with a 
red nose and a curling white moustache, came striding 
through brush and leaves. He stopped when he saw the 
Indian, stared contemptuously at the quarry of the morning 
chase, made a scornful remark about ''rat-eater, '' and went 
on toward the wigwam, probably to peer in, but the In- 
dian's slow, clear, ''keep away!" changed his plan. He 
grumbled something about "copper-coloured tramp," 
and started away in the direction of the nearest farmhouse. 







<^ 




n 

Rolf Kittering and the Soldier Uncle 

A feller that chatters all the time is bound to talk a certain amount of drivel. — 
The Sayings of Si Sylvanne 

THIS was the Crow Moon, the white man's March. 
The Grass Moon was at hand, and already the 
arrow bands of black- necked honkers were pass- 
ing northward from the coast, sending down as they flew 
the glad tidings that the Hunger Moon was gone, that 
spring was come, yea, even now was in the land. And the 
flicker clucked from a high, dry bough, the spotted wood- 
wale drummed on his chosen branch, the partridge 
drummed in the pine woods, and in the sky the wild 
ducks, winging, drummed their way. "What wonder that 
the soul of the Indian should seek expression in the drum 
and the drum song of his race? 

Presently, as though remembering something, he went 
quietly to the southward under the ridge, just where it 
breaks to let the brook go by, along the edge of Strick- 
land's Plain, and on that hill of sliding stone he found, as 
he always had, the blue-eyed liver-leaf smiling, the first 
sweet flower of spring! He did not gather it, he only sat 
down and looked at it. He did not smile, or sing, or 
utter words, or give it a name, but he sat beside it and 

6 



Rolf Kittcring and the Soldier Uncle 



looked hard at it, and, in the first place, he went there 
knowingly to find it. Who shall say that its beauty did 
not reach his soul? 

He took out his pipe and tobacco bag, but was reminded 
of something lacking — the bag was empty. He returned 
to his wigwam, and from their safe hanger or swinging 
shelf overhead, he took the row of stretched skins, ten 
muskrats and one mink, and set out along a path which 
led southward through the woods to the broad, open place 
called Strickland's Plain, across that, and over the next 
rock ridge to the little town and port of Myanos. 



SILAS PECK 

Trading Store 




was the sign over the door he entered. Men and women 

were buying and selling, but the Indian stood aside shyly 

until all were served, and Master Peck cried out: 

*'Ho, Quonab! what have ye got for trade to-day?" 
Quonab produced his furs. The dealer looked at them 

narrowly and said : 

"They are too late in the season for primes; I cannot 

allow you more than seven cents each for the rats and 

seventy-five cents for the mink, all trade." 
The Indian gathered up the bundle with an air of "that 

settles it, " when Silas called out: 

"Come now, I'll make it ten cents for the rats." 
"Ten cents for rats, one dollar for mink, all cash, then 

I buy what I like," was the reply. 

7 



Rolf in the Woods 

It was very necessary to Silas's peace that no customer 
of his should cross the street to the sign, 



SILAS MEAD 

Trading Store 



So the bargain, a fair one now, was made, and the Indian 
went off with a stock of tobacco, tea, and sugar. 

His way lay up the Myanos River, as he had one or two 
traps set along the banks for muskrats, although in con- 
stant danger of having them robbed or stolen by boys, who 
considered this an encroachment on their trapping grounds. 

After an hour he came to Dumpling Pond, then set out 
for his home, straight through the woods, till he reached 
the Catrock line, and following that came to the farm and 
ramshackle house of Micky Kittering. He had been told 
that the man at this farm had a fresh deer hide for sale, 
and hoping to secure it, Quonab walked up toward the 
house. Micky was coming from the barn when he saw 
the Indian. They recognized each other at a glance. 
That was enough for Quonab; he turned away. The 
farmer remembered that he had been ''insulted." He 
vomited a few oaths, and strode after the Indian, ''To 
take it out of his hide"; his purpose was very clear. The 
Indian turned quickly, stood, and looked calmly at Michael. 

Some men do not know the difference between shyness 
and cowardice, but they are apt to find it out unexpectedly. 
Something told th*" white man, "Beware! this red man is 
dangerous." He muttered something about, ''Get out 

8 



RoK Kittering and the Soldier Uncle 

of that or I'll send for a constable." The Indian stood 
gazing coldly, till the farmer backed off out of sight, then 
he himself turned away to the woods. 

Kittering was not a lovely character. He claimed to 
have been a soldier. He certainly looked the part, for 
his fierce white moustache was curled up like horns on his 
purple face, at each side of his red nose, in a most military 
style. His shoulders were square and his gait was swagger- 
' ing, beside which, he had an array of swear words that was 
new and tremendously impressive in Connecticut. He 
' had married late in life a woman who would have made him 
a good wife, had he allowed her. But, a drunkard himself, 
he set deliberately about bringing his wife to his own ways, 
and with most lamentable success. They had had no 
children, but some months before a brother's child, a 
'i fifteen-year-old lad, had become a charge on their hands, 
and, with any measure of good management, would have 
been a blessing to all. But Micky had gone too far. His 
(original weak good-nature was foundered in rum. Al- 
ways blustery and frothy, he divided the world in two — 
superior officers, before whom he grovelled, and inferiors, 
[to whom he was a mouthy, foul-tongued, contemptible 
bully, in spite of a certain lingering kindness of heart that 
^showed itself at such rare times when he was neither 
[roaring drunk nor crucified by black reaction. His 
brother's child, fortunately, had inherited little of the 
[paternal family traits, but in both body and brain favoured 
his mother, the daughter of a learned divine who had spent 
unusual pains on her book education, but had left her 
penniless and incapable of changing that condition. 



Rolf in the Woods 




(S/NA/')^ 



Her purely mental powers and peculiarities were such 

^''•v n/* . ^^^^' ^ hundred years before, she might have been burned 

-^" ^^ \\ ^y** for a witch, and fifty years later might have been honoured 

y ^ t% ^* ^^ ^ prophetess. But she missed the crest of the wave 

/^ / "% ^"^ both ways and fell in the trough; her views on reHgious 

./ ^^^ ^ matters procured neither a witch's grave nor a prophet's 

' crown, but a sort of village contempt. 

The Bible was her standard — so far so good — but 
she emphasized the wrong parts of it. Instead of mag- 
nif3dng the damnation of those who follow not the truth (as 
the village understood it), she was content to semi-quote: 

"Those that are not against me are with me," and 
"A kind heart is the mark of His chosen." And then 
she made a final utterance, an echo really of her father: 
"If any man do anything sincerely, believing that thereby 
he is worshipping God, he is worshipping God. " 

Then her fate was sealed, and all who marked the blaz- 
ing eyes, the hollow cheeks, the yet more hollow chest and 
cough, saw in it all the hand of an offended God destroy- 
ing a blasphemer, and shook their heads knowingly when 
the end came. 

So Rolf was left alone in life, with a common school 
education, a thorough knowledge of the Bible and of 
"Robinson Crusoe," a vague tradition of God everywhere, 
and a deep distrust of those who should have been his 
own people. 

The day of the little funeral he left the village of Redding 
to tramp over the unknown road to the unknown south 
where his almost unknown Uncle Michael had a farm and, 
possibly, a home for him. 

10 



Rolf Kittering and the Soldier Uncle 

Fifteen miles that day, a night's rest in a barn, twenty- 
five miles the next day, and Rolf had found his future 
home. 

"Come in, lad," was the not unfriendly reception, for 
his arrival was happily fallen on a brief spell of good 
humour, and a strong, fifteen-year-old boy is a distinct 
asset on a farm. 



II 



Ill 



Rolf Catches a Coon and Finds a Friend 




AUNT PRUE, sharp-eyed and red-nosed, was 
r\ actually shy at first, but all formality vanished 
as Rolf was taught the mysteries of pig-feeding, 
hen-feeding, calf-feeding, cow-milking, and launched by list 
only in a vast number of duties familiar to him from his 
babyhood. What a list there was! An outsider might 
have wondered if Aunt Prue was saving anything for her- 
self, but Rolf was used to toil. He worked without ceasing 
and did his best, only to learn in time that the best could 
win no praise, only avert punishment. The spells of good- 
nature arrived more seldom in his uncle's heart. His 
aunt was a drunken shrew, and soon Rolf looked on the 
days of starving and physical misery with his mother as 
the days of his happy youth gone by. 

He was usually too tired at night and too sleepy in the 
morning to say his prayers, and gradually he gave it up 
as a daily habit. The more he saw of his kinsfolk, the 
more wickedness came to view; and yet it was with a 
shock that he one day realized that some fowls his uncle 
brought home by night were there without the owner's 
knowledge or consent. Micky made a jest of it, and in- 
timated that Rolf would have to "learn to do night work 

12 



Rolf Catches a Coon and Finds a Friend 

very soon. " This was only one of the many things that 
showed how evil a place was now the orphan's home. 

At first it was not clear to the valiant uncle whether the 
silent boy was a superior to be feared, or an inferior to be 
held in fear, but Mick's courage grew with non-resistance, 
and blows became frequent; although not harder to bear 
than the perpetual fault-finding and scolding of his aunt, 
and all the good his mother had implanted was being shriv- 
elled by the fires of his daily life. 

Rolf had no chance to seek for companions at the vil- 
lage store, but an accident brought one to him. 

Before sunrise one spring morning he went, as usual, 
to the wood lot pasture for the cow, and was surprised to 
find a stranger, who beckoned him to come. On going 
near he saw a tall man with dark skin and straight black 
hair that was streaked with gray — undoubtedly an Indian. 
He held up a bag and said, "I got coon in that hole. You 
hold bag there, I poke him in." Rolf took the sack 
readily and held it over the hole, while the Indian climbed 
the tree to a higher opening, then poked in this with a long 
pole, till all at once there was a scrambling noise and the 
bag bulged full and heavy. Rolf closed its mouth trium- 
phantly. The Indian laughed lightly, then swung to the 
ground. 

"Now, what will you do with him?" asked Rolf. 

"Train coon dog, " was the answer. 

"Where?" 

The Indian pointed toward the Asamuk Pond. 

"Are you the singing Indian that lives under Ab's 
Rock?" 

13 



Rolf in the Woods 

"Ugh!* Some call me that. My name is Quonab." 

"Wait for an hour and then I will come and help," 
volunteered Rolf impulsively, for the hunting instinct was 
strong in him. 

The Indian nodded. "Give three yelps if you no find 
me;" then he shouldered a short stick, from one end of 
which, at a safe distance from his back, hung the bag with 
the coon. And Rolf went home with the cow. 

He had acted on hasty impulse in offering to come, but 
now, in the normal storm state of the household, the diffi- 
culties of the course appeared. He cudgelled his brain for 
some plan to account for his absence, and finally took 
refuge unwittingly in ancient wisdom: "When you don't 
know a thing to do, don't do a thing. " Also, "If you can't 
find the dehcate way, go the blunt way. " 

So having fed the horses, cleaned the stable, and milked 
the cow, fed the pigs, the hens, the calf, harnessed the 
horses, cut and brought in wood for the woodshed, turned 
out the sheep, hitched the horses to the wagon, set the milk 
out in the creaming pans, put more corn to soak for the 
swill barrel, ground the house knife, helped to clear the 
breakfast things, replaced the fallen rails of a fence, 
brought up potatoes from the root cellar, all to the madden- 
ing music of a scolding tongue, he set out to take the cow 
back to the wood lot, sullenly resolved to return when 
ready. 

*Ugh (yes) and wah (no) are Indianisms that continue no matter how well the 
English has been acquired. 



14 



IV 

The Coon Hunt Makes Trouble for Rolf 

NOT one hour, but nearly three, had passed before 
Rolf sighted the Pipestave Pond, as it was called. 
He had never been there before, but three short 
whoops, as arranged, brought answer and guidance. 
Quonab was standing on the high rock. When Rolf came 
he led down to the wigwam on its south side. It was like 
stepping into a new life. Several of the old neighbours at 
Redding were hunters who knew the wild Indians and had 
told him tales that glorified at least the wonderful wood- 
craft of the red man. Once or twice Rolf had seen Indians 
travelling through, and he had been repelled by their sordid 
squalour. But here was something of a different kind; 
not the Champlain ideal, indeed,for the Indian wore clothes 
like any poor farmer, except on his head and his feet; his 
head was bare, and his feet were covered with moccasins 
that sparkled with beads on the arch. The wigwam was 
of canvas, but it had one or two of the sacred symbols 
painted on it. The pot hung over the fire was tin-lined 
copper, of the kind long made in England for Indian trade, 
but the smaller dishes were of birch bark and basswood. 
The gun and the hunting knife were of white man's make, 
but the bow, arrows, snowshoes, tom-tom, and a quill- 

15 



Rolf in the Woods 

covered gun case were of Indian art, fashioned of the things 
that grow in the woods about. 

The Indian led into the wigwam. The dog, although 
not fully grown, growled savagely as it smelled the hated 
white man odour. Quonab gave the puppy a slap on the 
head, which is Indian for, "Be quiet; he's all right;" loosed 
the rope, and led the dog out. " Bring that," and the 
Indian pointed to the bag which hung from a stick between 
two trees. The dog sniffed suspiciously in the direction 
of the bag and growled, but he was not allowed to come 
near it. Rolf tried to make friends with the dog, but with- 
out success and Quonab said, "Better let Skooktmi* alone. 
He make friends when he ready — maybe never. '* 

The two hunters now set out for the open plain, two or 
three hundred yards to the southward. Here the raccoon 
was dumped out of the sack, and the dog held at a little 
distance, until the coon had pulled itself together and be- 
gan to run. Now the dog was released and chivvied on. 
_ With a tremendous barking he rushed at the coon, only to 

J get a nip that made him recoil, yelping. The coon ran 

^••y as hard as it could, the dog and hunters came after it; 

^ \LJ*S again it was overtaken, and, turning with a fierce snarl, it 

/ ^^'^^V\ taught the dog a second lesson. Thus, running, dodging, 
V ^ *^ f ^^^ turning to fight, the coon got back to the woods, and 
^ "* there made a final stand under a small, thick tree; and, 
\ when the dog was again repulsed, climbed quickly up into 
the branches. 



ISI 



% 



> 



. • The hunters did all they could to excite the dog, until he 



'. ) 






'Skookum" or "Skookum Chuck," in Chinook means "Troubled waters." 

i6 



The Coon Hunt Makes Trouble for Rolf 



was jumping about, trying to climb the tree, and barking 
uproariously. This was exactly what they wanted. 
Skookum^s first lesson was learned — the duty of chasing 
the big animal of that particular smell, then barking up 
the tree it had climbed. 

Quonab, armed with a forked stick and a cord noose, 
now went up the tree. After much trouble he got the 
noose around the coon's neck, then, with some rather 
rough handling, the animal was dragged down, manoeu- 
vred into the sack, and carried back to camp, where it was 
chained up to serve in future lessons; the next two or three 
being to tree the coon, as before; in the next, the coon 
was to be freed and allowed to get out of sight, so that the 
dog might find it by trailing, and the last, in which the 
coon was to be trailed, treed, and shot out of the tree, 
so that the dog should have the final joy of killing a crip- 
pled coon, and the reward of a coon-meat feast. But 
the last was not to be, for the night before it should have 
taken place the coon managed to slip its bonds, and noth- 
ing but the empty collar and idle chain were found in the 
captive's place next morning. 

These things were in the future however. Rolf was in- 
tensely excited over all he had seen that day. His hunt- 
ing instincts were aroused. There had been no very ob- 
vious or repellant cruelty; the dog alone had suffered, but 
he seemed happy. The whole affair was so exactly in the 
line of his tastes that the boy was in a sort of ecstatic 
uplift, and already anticipating a real coon hunt, when 
the dog should be properly trained. The episode so con- 
trasted with the sordid life he had left an hour before that 




17 



Rolf in the Woods 

he was spellbound. The very animal smell of the coon 
seemed to make his fibre tingle. His eyes were glowing 
with a wild light. He was so absorbed that he did not 
notice a third party attracted by the unusual noise of the 
chase, but the dog did. A sudden, loud challenge called 
all attention to a stranger on the ridge behind the camp. 
There was no mistaking the bloated face and white 
moustache of Rolf's uncle. 

"So, you young scut! that is how you waste your time. 
I'll larn ye a lesson. " 

The dog was tied, the Indian looked harmless, and the 
boy was cowed, so the uncle's courage mounted high. He 
had been teaming in the nearby woods, and the black- 
snake whip was in his hands. In a minute its thong was 
lapped, like a tongue of flame, around Rolf's legs. The 
boy gave a shriek and ran, but the man followed and furi- 
ously plied the whip. The Indian, supposing it was Rolf's 
father, marvelled at his method of showing affection, but 
said nothing, for the Fifth Commandment is a large one 
in the wigwam. Rolf dodged some of the cruel blows, but 
was driven into a corner of the rock. One end of the lash 
crossed his face Hke a red-hot wire. 

'*Now I've got you!" growled the bully. 

Rolf was desperate. He seized two heavy stones and 
hurled the first with deadly intent at his uncle's head. 
Mick dodged in time, but the second, thrown lower, hit 
him on the thigh. Mick gave a roar of pain. Rolf 
hastily seized more stones and shrieked out, "You come on 
one step and I'll kill you!" 

Then that purple visage turned a sort of ashen hue. 

i8 



The Coon Hunt Makes Trouble for Rolf 

Its owner mouthed in speechless rage. He "knew it was 
the Indian had put Rolf up to it. He'd see to it later," and 
muttering, blasting, frothing, the hoary-headed sinner 
went limping off to his loaded wagon. 




eSJJi 



19 



Good-bye to Uncle Mike 

For counsel comes with the night, and action comes with the day; 

But the gray half light, neither dark nor bright, is a time to hide away. 

ROLF had learned one thing at least — his uncle 
was a coward. But he also knew that he himself 
" was in the wrong, for he was neglecting his work, 
and he decided to go back at once and face the worst. He 
made little reply to the storm of scolding that met him. 
He would have been disappointed if it had not come. He 
was used to it; it made him feel at home once more. He 
worked hard and silently. 

Mick did not return till late. He had been drawing 
wood for Horton that day, which was the reason he hap- 
pened in Quonab's neighbourhood; but his road lay by 
the tavern, and when he arrived home he was too helpless 
to do more than mutter. 

The next day there was an air of suspended thunder. 
Rolf overheard his uncle cursing "that ungrateful young 
scut — not worth his salt. " But nothing further was said 
or done. His aunt did not strike at him once for two 
days. The third night Micky disappeared. On the next he 
returned with another man; they had a crate of fowls, and 
Rolf was told to keep away from ''that there little barn." 

20 



Good-bye to Uncle Mike 

So he did all morning, but he peeped in from the hayloft 
when a chance came, and saw a beautiful horse. Next 
day the "little barn" was open and empty as before. 

That night this worthy couple had a jollification with 
some callers, who were strangers to Rolf. As he lay awake, 
Hstening to the carouse, he overheard many disjointed 
allusions that he did not understand, and some that he 
could guess at: "Night work pays better than day work 
any time, " etc. Then he heard his own name and a voice, 
"Let's go up and settle it with him now. " Whatever their 
plan, it was clear that the drunken crowd, inspired by the 
old ruffian, were intent on doing him bodily harm. He 
heard them stumbling and reeling up the steep stairs. He 
heard, "Here, gimme that whip," and knew he was in 
peril, maybe of his life, for they were whiskey-mad. He 
rose quickly, locked the door, rolled up an old rag carpet, 
and put it in his bed. Then he gathered his clothes on 
his arm, opened the window, and lowered himself till his 
head only was above the sill, and his foot found a resting 
place. Thus he awaited. The raucous breathing of the 
revellers was loud on the stairs; then the door was tried; 
there was some muttering; then the door was burst open 
and in rushed two, or perhaps three, figures. Rolf could 
barely see in the gloom, but he knew that his uncle was 
one of them. The attack they made with whip and 
stick on that roll of rags in the bed would have broken his 
bones and left him shapeless, had he been in its place. 
The men were laughing and took it all as a joke, but Rolf 
had seen enough; he slipped to the ground and hurried 
away, realizing perfectly well now that thiswas" good-bye." 

' 21 



-JTrj- 



Rolf in the Wbods 

Which way? How naturally his steps turned north- 
ward toward Redding, the only other place he knew. But 
he had not gone a mile before he stopped. The yapping 
of a coon dog came to him from the near woods that lay 
to the westward along Asamuk. He tramped toward it. 
To find the dog is one thing, to find the owner another; but 
they drew near at last. Rolf gave the three yelps and 
Quonab responded. 

"I am done with that crowd," said the boy. *'They 
tried to kill me to-night. Have you got room for me in 
your wigwam for a couple of days? '' 

"Ugh, come," said the Indian. 

That night, for the first time, Rolf slept in the outdoor 
air of a wigwam. He slept late, and knew nothing of the 
world about him till Quonab called him to breakfast. 




22 



VI 

Skookum Accepts Rolf at Last 

ROLF expected that Micky would soon hear of his 
hiding place and come within a few days, backed 
by a constable, to claim his runaway ward. But 
a week went by and Quonab, passing through Myanos, 
learned, first, that Rolf had been seen tramping northward 
on the road to DumpHng Pond, and was now supposed to 
be back in Redding; second, that Micky Kittering was 
lodged in jail under charge of horse-stealing and would 
certainly get a long sentence; third, that his wife had gone 
back to her own folks at Norwalk, and the house was held 
by strangers. 

All other doors were closed now, and each day that 
drifted by made it the more clear that Rolf and Quonab 
were to continue together. What boy would not exult at 
the thought of it? Here was freedom from a brutal 
tyranny that was crushing out his young life; here was a 
dream of the wild world coming true, with gratification 
of all the hunter instincts that he had held in his heart 
for years, and nurtured in that single, ragged volume of 
''Robinson Crusoe." The plunge was not a plunge, except 
it be one when an eagle, pinion-bound, is freed and springs 
from a cliff of the mountain to ride the mountain wind. 

23 







Rolf in the Woods 

The memory of that fateful cooning day was deep and 
lasting. Never afterward did smell of coon fail to bring 
it back; in spite of the many evil incidents it was a smell 
of joy. 

"Where are you going, Quonab?" he asked one morning, 
as he saw the Indian rise at dawn and go forth with his 
song drum, after warming it at the fire. He pointed up 
to the rock, and for the first time Rolf heard the chant for 
the sunrise. Later he heard the Indian's song for "Good 
Hunting," and another for "When His Heart Was Bad." 
They were prayers or praise, all addressed to the Great 
Spirit, or the Great Father, and it gave Rolf an entirely 
new idea of the red man, and a startling light on himself. 
Here was the Indian, whom no one considered anything 
but a hopeless pagan, praying to God for guidance at each 
step in life, while he himself, supposed to be a Christian, 
had not prayed regularly for months — was in danger of 
forgetting how. 

Yet there was one religious observance that Rolf never 
forgot — that was to keep the Sabbath, and on that day 
each week he did occasionally say a little prayer his mother 
had taught him. He avoided being seen at such times and 
did not speak of kindred doings. Whereas Quonab neither 
hid nor advertised his religious practices, and it was only 
after many Sundays had gone that Quonab remarked: 

"Does your God come only one day of the week? Does 
He sneak in after dark? Why is He ashamed that 
you only whisper to Him? Mine is here all the time. 
I can always reach Him with my song; all days are my 
Sunday." 

24 




^^»ir-'^"'' ^^fc^,,^ 



The Sunrise Song 



Sfcookum Accepts Rolf at Last 



The evil memories of his late life were dimming quickly, 
and the joys of the new one growing. Rolf learned early that, 
although one may talk of the hardy savage, no Indian seeks 
for hardship. Everything is done that he knows to make 
Ufe pleasant, and of nothing is he more careful than the 
comfort of his couch. On the second day, under guidance 
of his host, Rolf set about making his own bed. Two logs, 
each four inches thick and three feet long, were cut. Then 
two strong poles, each six feet long, were laid into notches 
at the ends of the short logs. About seventy-five straight 
sticks of willow were cut and woven with willow bark into 
a lattice, three feet wide and six feet long. This, laid on 
the poles, furnished a spring mattress, on which a couple 
of blankets made a most comfortable couch, dry, warm, 
and off the ground. In addition to the lodge cover, each 
bed had a dew cloth which gave perfect protection, no 
matter how the storm might rage outdoors. There was 
no hardship in it, only a new-found pleasure, to sleep and 
breathe the pure night air of the woods. 

The Grass Moon — April — had passed, and the Song 
Moon was waxing, with its hosts of small birds, and one 
of Rolf's early discoveries was that many of these love to 
sing by night. Again and again the familiar voice of the 
song sparrow came from the dark shore of Asamuk, or the 
field sparrow trilled from the top of some cedar, occasion- 
ally the painted one, Aunakeu, the partridge, drummed in 
the upper woods, and nightly there was the persistent 
chant of Muckawis, the whip-poor-will, the myriad voices 
of the Httle frogs called spring-peepers, and the peculiar, 
"peent, peent,'' from the sky, followed by a twittering, 

25 







Rolf in the Woods 

that Quonab told him was the love song of the swamp bird 
— the big snipe, with the fantail and long, soft bill, and 
eyes like a deer. 

*'Do you mean the woodcock?" 

*'Ugh, that's the name; Pah-dash-ka-anja we call it." 

The waning of the moon brought new songsters, with 
many a nightingale among them. A low bush near the 
plain was vocal during the full moon with the sweet but 
disconnected music of the yellow-breasted chat. The 
forest rang again and again with a wild, torrential strain 
of music that seemed to come from the stars. It sent a 
peculiar thrill into Rolf's heart, and gave him a lump in 
his throat as he listened. 

''What is that, Quonab?" 

"The Indian shook his head. Then, later, when it 
ended, he said: "That is the mystery song of some one. 
I never saw him. " 

There was a long silence, then the lad began, "There's 
no good hunting here now, Quonab. Why don't you go 
to the north woods, where deer are plentiful? " 

The Indian gave a short shake of his head, and then, 
to prevent further talk, "Put up your dew cloth; the sea 
wind blows to-night. " 

He finished; both stood for a moment gazing into the 

fire. Then Rolf felt something wet and cold thrust into 

y^^^TfvrX ^^ hand. It was Skookum's nose. At last the little dog 

X -'" * ^x "\ 'y J had made up his mind to accept the white boy as a friend. 

26 




VII 
Memory's Harp and the Indian Drum 

IN EARLY morning, or in dew time, before using 
his tom-tom, Quonab would tune it by warming 
it over the fire. On wet days it was so relaxed 
that he would tighten the back thongs. One day, after a 
thong tightening and warming, it sang so shrilly that Rolf 
turned to inquire, when crack! and the skin split open. 

"It was old; I make a new one," was all its owner said. 

That morning Rolf saw how it was made. A six-foot 
length of a four-inch hickory sapling was split and trimmed 
down to a long strip three inches wide and an inch thick 
in the middle, thin at the edges, rounded on one side, 
flat on the other. Then, flat side in, it was bent into a 
large hoop, and after treatment with hot water and 
steam to keep it from breaking, the hoop was reduced to 
fifteen inches across, and the ends, when thinned down, 
were lashed in place with some thongs cut from a rawhide 
and soaked in water till soft. 

Raw buckskin is best for a tom-tom head, but having 
none, Quonab took an old calfskin from his storehouse 
under the rock. After this was softened by soaking over 
night in the pond, he covered the hairy side with a cream 
of quicklime and water. Next morning the hair was 

27 



Rolf in the Woods 

easily scraped off; then, after all fat and loose ends were 
removed from the hide, the hoop was set on it, and a circle 
cut out about Rve inches larger on all sides; a strong 
thong of rawhide was laced through the edge of this, and 
used as a puckering string when the loose flap was brought 
together on the upper side of the hoop. Now thongs were 
passed tightly across the back in four different places, so 
that they crossed in the centre, making eight rows of 
spokes. A final thong passed over and under these, in the 
centre, round and round, stretched the skin as much as 
desired. As soon as it dried out, the tension became very 
marked, and the sound of the ever-hardening rawhide 
took on almost a metallic character. 

As the Indian tummed it Rolf felt strangely influenced. 
What was it in his nature that responded? He did not 
know, any more than the soldier knows, or the Salvationist 
knows, what power to sway the soul there is in the rhyth- 
mic, vibrant *^tum-ta-tum-ta" of the big drum. But 
the power is there, and the wise halt not to seek the 
reason, but accept its help to make good their sway — 
the king who rules the army, the preacher who leads the 
Salvationists, and the medicine-man who would shape 
the red man's life. 

Quonab sang at length his song of the long ago when his 
people, the Wabanaki, the Men of the Day-dawn, came 
westward, fighting their way, till they possessed all the 
country to the great Shatemuk, which white men call the 
Hudson. And, singing, he stirred his memory, till it 
opened up his heart. The silent Indian, like King William 
the Silent, got his reputation because of his behaviour at 

28 







Memory's Harp and the Indian Drum 

certain times. To strangers Indians are silent, reserved, 
and shy. Among themselves they are very human, some 
of them very talkative; and Rolf found that silent Quonab 
could, in the intimacy of camp life, become very outspoken 
when the right cord was touched in the very right way. 

The song of the Wabanaki led Rolf to ask, "Did your 
people always live right here?" And then, in fragments, 
he got a history. 

Long before the white man came, the Sinawa won and 
held this land from Quinnuhtekut to Shatemuk; then came 
the white men, Dutchmen from Manhattan and Eng- 
lishmen from Massachusetts. First they made treaties; 
then, in time of peace, they gathered an army, and tak- 
ing advantage of the truce and of the mid-winter festival 
that gathered all the tribe in the walled town of Petu- 
quapen, the soldiers surrounded the place, and when the 
flames of their burning homes drove out the folk, they 
were slaughtered like deer in the snow-drifts. 

"There stood the great village of my fathers," and the 
Indian pointed a quarter mile away to the level place next 
the rock ridge that lies along the west of Strickland's Plain. 
"There stood the house of the mighty Amogerone, who was 
so honest that he thought all men were to be trusted, so 
trusted even the whites. That road away from the north 
was the moccasin trail, and where it forks to go to Cos Cob 
and Myanos, it ran ankle deep in blood that night; from 
that low mount to this the snow was black with bodies. 

"How many perished? A thousand, mostly women 
and children. How many of the attack were killed? 
None, not one. Why should they? It was a time of 

29 



Rolf in the Woods 

peace. Our people were unprepared — were without 
guns. The enemy was in ambush. 

*'Only the brave Mayn Mayano escaped; he who 
bitterly opposed the Chief when the treaty was made — 
the 'Fighting Sagamore/ the English called him. Now 
all was open war for him. Many and many a scalp he 
took. He never feared to face double odds, and won and 
won, till he grew reckless. 'One Indian Sagamore is 
better than three white men,' he boldly proclaimed, and 
proved it again and again. But on an evil day, when armed 
only with a tomahawk, he attacked three soldiers wearing 
armour and bearing guns and pistols. The first he killed, 
the second disabled, but the third, a captain in a steel 
helmet that turned the tomahawk, had little ado to 
stand ten feet aside and shoot the brave Mayn Mayano 
through the heart. Yonder by that hill, on the highway 
to Stamford where he fell, his widow buried him. On 
the river that bears his name the remnant of his people 
lived, till all were gone but my father's lodge. 

"Here Cos Cob, my father, brought me when a child, 
even as his grandfather once brought him, and showed me 
the place of our Royal Petuquapen. There along the 
plain it stretched, and there is the trail that ran so deep 
in blood. Here in the little swampy woods, where the 
ground was soft, the butchers piled our dead; close under 
that rocky hill beside the Asamuk, lie the murdered 
tribe. Our children used to come in the Wild Goose 
Moon to the top of that hill, because there, first of all, 
the little blue-eyes of spring used to show. I often come 
to find them, and as I sit I seem to hear the cry that rang 

30 



Memory^s Harp and the Indian Drum 

in the night from the burning town, of mothers, of babies, 
killed like rabbits. 

*'But I remember, too, the brave Mayn Mayano. His 
spirit comes to help me as I sit and sing the songs of my 
people — not the war songs, but the songs of another 
land. I alone am left. A little while, and I shall be 
with them. Here have I dwelt, and here I would die." 
The Indian ceased and again became the silent one. 

Late that day he took his new song-drum from its peg, 
went quietly to the top of the great rock, where he prayed, 
and the words of the song that he sang were: 

"Father, we walk in darkness; 
Father we do not understand; 
Walking darkly, we bow the head." 






^liiS^/ 



31 



VIII 



The Law of Property Among Our Four-Footed Kin 



>'^> 



'-^^ 



X :>.. 



^)^ 
^ 




NIGHT came down on the Asamuk woods, and the 
two in the wigwam were eating their supper of 
pork, beans, and tea, for the Indian did not, 
by any means object to the white man's luxuries, when 
a strange *'yap-yurr" was heard out toward the plain. 
The dog was up at once with a growl. Rolf looked in- 
quiringly, and Quonab said, ''Fox,'' then bade the dog 
be still. 

''Yap-yurr, yap-yurr," and then, "ynrr, yeow," it 
came again and again. "Can we get him?" said the 
eager young hunter. The Indian shook his head. 

"Fur no good now. An' that's a she-one, with young 
ones on the hillside." 

"How do you know?" was the amazed inquiry. 

"I know it's a she-one, 'cause she says: 



n J 



uvr 



\u '' 7/^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^ ^ he-one he'd say: 

i'l V'^J —n 1 





The Law of Property 

"And she has cubs, 'cause all have at this season. And 
they are on that hillside, because that's the nearest place 
where any fox den is, and they keep pretty much to their 
own hunting grounds. If another fox should come hunt- 
ing on the beat of this pair, he'd have to fight for it. That 
is the way of the wild animals; each has his own run, and 
for that he will fight an outsider that he would be afraid 
of at any other place. One knows he is right — that 
braces him up; the other knows he is wrong — and that 
weakens him." Those were the Indian's views, expressed 
much less connectedly than here given, and they led 
Rolf on to a train of thought. He remembered a case 
that was much to the point. 

Their little dog Skookum several times had been worsted 
by the dog on the Horton farm, when, following his master, 
he had come into the house yard. There was no question 
that the Horton dog was stronger. But Skookum had 
buried a bone under some bushes by the plain and next 
day the hated Horton dog appeared. Skookum watched 
him with suspicion and fear, until it was no longer doubtful 
that the enemy had smelled the hidden food and was going 
for it. Then Skookum, braced up by some instinctive 
feeling, rushed forward with bristling mane and gleaming 
teeth, stood over his cache, and said in plainest dog, "You 
can't touch that while I live!" 

And the Horton dog — accustomed to domineer over 
the small yellow cur — growled contemptuously, scratched 
with his hind feet, smelled around an adjoining bush, and 
pretending not to see or notice, went off in another 
direction. 

33 



Rolf in the Woods 



What was it that robbed him of his courage, but the 
knowledge that he was in the wrong? 

Continuing with his host Rolf said, ''Do you think 
they have any idea that it is wrong to steal? " 

''Yes, so long as it is one of their own tribe. A fox will 
take all he can get from a bird or a rabbit or a woodchuck, 
but he won't go far on the hunting grounds of another 
fox. He won't go into another fox's den or touch one of 
its young ones, and if he finds a cache of food with another 
fox's mark on it, he won't touch it unless he is near dead 
of hunger." 

"How do you mean they cache food and how do they 
mark it?" 

"Generally they bury it under the leaves and soft 
earth, and the only mark is to leave their body scent. 
But that is strong enough, and every fox knows it." 

"Do wolves make food caches?'' 

"Yes, wolves, cougars, weasels, squirrels, blue jays, 
crows, owls, mice, all do, and all have their own way of 
marking a place." 

"Suppose a fox finds a wolf cache, will he steal from 
it?" 

"Yes, always. There is no law between fox and wolf. 
They are always at war with each other. There is law 
only between fox and fox, or wolf and wolf. " 

"That is like ourselves, ain't it? We say, 'Thou shalt 
not steal,' and then when we steal the Indian's land or 
the Frenchman's ships, we say, 'Oh, that don't mean not 
steal from our enemies; they are fair game. ' " 

Quonab rose to throw some sticks on the fire, then went 

34 













^1 



The Law of Property 

out to turn the smoke flap of the wigwam, for the wind 
was changed and another set was needed to draw the smoke. 
They heard several times again the high-pitched "yap- 
yurr/' and once the deeper notes, which told that the 
dog fox, too, was near the camp, and was doubtless seeking 
food to carry home. 



35 



IX 

Where the Bow Is Better Than the Gun 

OF ALL popular errors about the Indians, the 
hardest to down is the idea that their women 
do all the work. They do the housework, it 
is true, but all the heavy labour beyond their strength is 
done by the men. Examples of this are seen in the fright- 
ful toil of hunting, canoeing, and portaging, besides a mul- 
titude of kindred small tasks, such as making snowshoes, 
bows, arrows, and canoes. 

Each warrior usually makes his own bow and arrows, 
and if, as often happens, one of them proves more skilful 
and turns out better weapons, it is a common thing for 
others to offer their own specialty in exchange. 

The advantages of the bow over the gun are chiefly 
its noiselessness, its cheapness, and the fact that one can 
make its ammunition anywhere. As the gun chiefly used 
in Quonab's time was the old-fashioned, smooth-bore 
flint-lock, there was not much difference in the accuracy 
of the two weapons. Quonab had always made a high- 
class bow, as well as high-class arrows, and was a high- 
class shot. He could set up ten clam shells at ten paces 
and break all in ten shots. For at least half of his hunting 
he preferred the bow; the gun was useful to him chiefly 

36 



Where the Bow Is Better Than the Gun 



when flocks of wild pigeons or ducks were about, and a 
single charge of scattering shot might bring down a dozen 
birds. 

But there is a law in all shooting — to be expert, you 
must practise continually — and when Rolf saw his host 
shoot nearly every day at some mark, he tried to join in 
the sport. 

It took not many trys to show that the bow was far 
too strong for him to use, and Quonab was persuaded 
at length to make an outfit for his visitor. 

From the dry store hole under the rock, he produced 
a piece of common red cedar. Some use hickory; it is 
less liable to break and will stand more abuse, but it has 
not the sharp, clean action of cedar. The latter will send 
the arrow much farther, and so swiftly does it leave the 
string that it baffles the eye. But the cedar bow must be 
cared for like a delicate machine; overstring it, and it 
breaks; twang it without an arrow, and it sunders the 
cords; scratch it, and it may splinter; wet it, and it is dead; 
let it lie on the ground, even, and it is weakened. But 
guard it and it will serve you as a matchless servant, and 
as can no other timber in these woods. 

Just where the red heart and the white sap woods 
join is the bowman's choice. A piece that reached from 
Rolf's chin to the ground was shaved down till it was flat 
on the white side and round on the red side, tapering from 
the middle, where it was one inch wide and one inch thick 
to the ends, where it was three fourths of an inch wide and 
five eighths of an inch thick, the red and white wood equal 
in all parts. 

37 




Rolf in the Woods 

The string was made of sinew from the back of a cow, 
split from the long, broad sheath that lies on each side the 
spine, and the bow strung for trial. Now, on drawing it 
(flat or white side in front), it was found that one arm bent 
more than the other, so a Uttle more scraping was done on 
the strong side, till both bent alike. 

Quonab's arrows would answer, but Rolf needed a supply 
of his own. Again there was great choice of material. 
The long, straight shoots of the arrowwood (Viburnum 
dentatum) suppHed the ancient Indians, but Quonab had 
adopted a better way, since the possession of an axe made 
it possible. A 25-inch block of straight-grained ash was 
split and spUt until it yielded enough pieces. These were 
shaved down to one fourth of an inch thick, round, smooth, 
and perfectly straight. Each was notched deeply at one 
end; three pieces of split goose feather were lashed on the 
notched end, and three different kinds of arrows were made. 
All were aHke in shaft and in feathering, but differed in 
the head. First, the target arrows: these were merely 
sharpened, and the points hardened by roasting to a brown 
colour. They would have been better with conical points 
of steel, but none of these were to be had. Second, the 
ordinary hunting arrows with barbed steel heads, usually 
bought ready-made, or filed out of a hoop: these were 
for use in securing such creatures as muskrats, ducks close 
at hand, or deer. Third, the bird bolts: these were left 
with a large, round, wooden head. They were intended 
for quail, partridges, rabbits, and squirrels, but also served 
very often, and most admirably, in punishing dogs, either 
the Indian's own when he was not living up to the rules 

38 



^ 

% 



Where the Bow Is Better Than the Gun 

and was too far off for a cuff or kick, or a farmer's dog that 
was threatening an attack. 

Now the outfit was complete, Rolf thought, but one 
other touch was necessary. Quonab painted the feather 
part of the shaft bright red, and Rolf learned why. Not 
for ornament, not as an owner's mark, but as a finding 
mark. Many a time that brilliant red, with the white 
feather next it, was the means of saving the arrow from 
loss. An uncoloured arrow among the sticks and leaves 
of the woods was usually hidden, but the bright-coloured 
shaft could catch the eye loo yards away. 

It was very necessary to keep the bow and arrows from 
the wet. For this, every hunter provides a case, usually 
of buckskin, but failing that they made a good quiver of _ 

birch bark laced with spruce roots for the arrows, and for t1^ 

the bow itself a long cover of tarpaulin. ^ ^ 

Now came the slow drilling in archery; the arrow held 
and the bow drawn with three fingers on the cord — the 
thumb and little finger doing nothing. The target was a 
bag of hay set at twenty feet, until the beginner could hit 
it every time: then by degrees it was moved away until 
at the standard distance of forty yards he could do fair 
shooting, although of course he never shot as well as the 
Indian, who had practised since he was a baby. 

There are three different kinds of archery tests : the first 
for aim: Can you shoot so truly as to hit a three-inch 
mark, ten times in succession, at ten paces? 

Next for speed : Can you shoot so quickly and so far 
up, as to have five arrows in the air at once? If so, you 
are good: Can you keep up six? Then you are very 

39 



Rolf in the Woods 

good. Seven is wonderful. The record is said to be eight. 
Last for power: Can you pull so strong a bow and let 
the arrow go so clean that it will fly for 250 yards or will 
pass through a deer at ten paces? There is a record of a 
Sioux who sent an arrow through three antelopes at one 
shot, and it was not unusual to pierce the huge buffalo 
through and through; on one occasion a warrior with one 
shot pierced the buffalo and killed her calf running at the 
other side. 

If you excel in these three things, you can down your 
partridge and squirrel every time; you can get five or six 
out of each flock of birds; you can kill your deer at twenty- 
five yards, and so need never starve in the woods where 
there is game. 

Of course, Rolf was keen to go forth and try in the real 
chase, but it was many a shot he missed and many an 
arrow lost or broken, before he brought in even a red 
squirrel, and he got, at least, a higher appreciation of the 
skill of those who could count on the bow for their food. 

For those, then, who think themselves hunters and 
woodmen, let this be a test and standard: Can you go 
forth alone into the wilderness where there is game, take 
only a bow and arrows for weapons, and travel afoot 250 
miles, living on the country as you go? 



^-^ 







iy V,; 



A\ \ \\ 



40 



X 

Rolf Works Out with Many Results 

He is the dumbest kind of a dumb fool that ain't king in some little 
corner. — Sayings of Si Sylvanne 

THE man who has wronged you will never forgive 
you, and he who has helped you will be forever 
grateful. Yes, there is nothing that draws you 
to a man so much as the knowledge that you have helped 
him. ) 

Quonab helped Rolf, and so was more drawn to him 
than to many of the neighbours that he had known for 
years; he was ready to hke him. Their coming together 
was accidental, but it was soon very clear that a friend- 
ship was springing up between them. Rolf was too much 
of a child to think about the remote future; and so was 
Quonab. Most Indians are merely tall children. 

But there was one thing that Rolf did think of — he 
had no right to live in Quonab's lodge without contributing 
a fair share of the things needful. Quonab got his Hving 
partly by hunting, partly by fishing, partly by selling 
baskets, and partly by doing odd jobs for the neighbours. 
Rolf ^s training as a loafer had been wholly neglected, and 
when he realized that he might be all summer with Quonab 
he said bluntly: 

41 



Rolf in the Woods 

"You let me stay here a couple of months. I'll work 
out odd days, and buy enough stuff to keep myself any 
way.'* Quonab said nothing, but their eyes met, and the 
boy knew it was agreed to. 

Rolf went that very day to the farm of Obadiah Tim- 
pany, and offered to work by the day, hoeing corn and root 
crops. What farmer is not glad of help in planting time 
or in harvest? It was only a question of what did he know 
and how much did he want? The first was soon made 
clear; two dollars a week was the usual thing for boys in 
those times, and when he offered to take it half in trade, 
he was really getting three dollars a week and his board. 
Food was as low as wages, and at the end of a week, Rolf 
brought back to camp a sack of oatmeal, a sack of corn- 
meal, a bushel of potatoes, a lot of apples, and one dollar 
cash. The dollar went for tea and sugar, and the total 
product was enough to last them both a month; so Rolf 
could share the wigwam with a good conscience. 

Of course, it was impossible to keep the gossipy little 
town of Myanos from knowing, first, that the Indian had 
a white boy for partner; and, later, that that boy was Rolf. 
This gave rise to great diversity of opinion in the neighbour- 
hood. Some thought it should not be allowed, but Horton, 
who owned the land on which Quonab was camped, could 
not see any reason for interfering. 

Ketchura Peck, spinster, however, did see many most 
excellent reasons. She was a maid with a mission, and 
maintained it to be an outrage that a Christian boy should 
be brought up by a godless pagan. She worried over it 
almost as much as she did over the heathen in Central 

42 



Rolf Works Out with Many Results 

Africa, where there are no Sunday schools, and clothes 
are as scarce as churches. Failing to move Parson Peck 
and Elder Knapp in the matter, and despairing of an early 
answer to her personal prayers, she resolved on a bold move, 
"An' it was only after many a sleepless, prayerful night," 
namely, to carry the Bible into the heathen's stronghold. 

Thus it was that one bright morning in June she might 
have been seen, prim and proper — almost glorified, she 
felt, as she set her lips just right in the mirror — making 
for the Pipestave Pond, Bible in hand and spectacles clean 
wiped, ready to read appropriate selections to the unre- 
generate. 

She was full of the missionary spirit when she left Myanos, 
and partly full when she reached the Orchard Street Trail; 
but the spirit was leaking badly, and the woods did appear 
so wild and lonely that she wondered if women had any 
right to be missionaries. When she came in sight of the 
pond, the place seemed unpleasantly different from Myanos 
and where was the Indian camp? She did not dare to 
shout; indeed, she began to wish she were home again, 
but the sense of duty carried her fully fifty yards along the 
pond, and then she came to an impassable rock, a sheer 
bank that plainly said, ''Stop!" Now she must go back 
or up the bank. Her Yankee pertinacity said, "Try first 
up the bank," and she began a long, toilsome ascent, 
that did not end until she came out on a high, open rock 
which, on its farther side, had a sheer drop and gave a 
view of the village and of the sea. 

Whatever joy she had on again seeing her home was 
speedily quelled in the fearsome discovery that she was 

43 




Rolf in the Woods 

right over the Indian camp, and the two inmates looked so 
utterly, dreadfully savage that she was thankful they had 
not seen her. At once she shrank back; but on recovering 
sufficiently to again peer down, she saw something roast- 
ing before the fire — "a tiny arm with a hand that bore 
five fingers," as she afterward said, and "a sickening 
horror came over her. " Yes, she had heard of such things. 
If she could only get home in safety! Why had she 
tempted Providence thus? She backed softly and prayed 
only to escape. What, and never even deliver the Bible? 
"It would be wicked to return with it!" In a cleft of 
the rock she placed it, and then, to prevent the wind 
blowing off loose leaves, she placed a stone on top, and 
fled from the dreadful place. 

That night, when Quonab and Rolf had finished their 
meal of corn and roasted coon, the old man climbed the 
rock to look at the sky. The book caught his eye at once, 
evidently hidden there carefully, and therefore in cache. 
A cache is a sacred thing to an Indian. He disturbed it 
not, but later asked Rolf, "That yours?" 

"No." 

It was doubtless the property of some one who meant 
to return for it, so they left it untouched. It rested 
there for many months, till the winter storms came down, 
dismantling the covers, dissolving the pages, but leaving 
such traces as, in the long afterward, served to identify 
the book and give the rock the other name, the one it 
bears to-day — "Bible Rock, where Quonab, the son of 
Cos Cob, used to live." 

44 



XI 

The Thunder-storm and the Fire Sticks 

WHEN first Rolf noticed the wigwam's place, he 
wondered that Quonab had not set it somewhere 
facing the lake, but he soon learned that it is 
best to have the morning sun, the afternoon shade, and 
shelter from the north and west winds. 

The first two points were illustrated nearly every day; 
but it was two weeks before the last was made clear. 

That day the sun came up in a red sky, but soon was 
lost to view in a heavy cloud-bank. There was no wind, 
and, as the morning passed, the day grew hotter and 
closer. Quonab prepared for a storm; but it came with 
unexpected force, and a gale of wind from the northwest 
that would indeed have wrecked the lodge, but for the 
great sheltering rock. Under its lea there was hardy a 
breeze; but not fifty yards away were two trees that 
rubbed together, and in the storm they rasped so 
violently that fine shreds of smoking wood were dropped 
and, but for the rain, would surely have made a blaze. 
The thunder was loud and lasted long, and the water 
poured down in torrents. They were ready for rain, but 
not for the flood that rushed over the face of the cliff, 
soaking everything in the lodge except the beds, which, 

45 



Rolf in the Woods 



fhnt 




being four inches off the ground, were safe; and lying on 
them the two campers waited patiently, or impatiently, \ 
while the weather raged for two drenching hours. And ] 
then the pouring became a pattering; the roaring, a 
swishing; the storm, a shower which died away, leaving 
changing patches of blue in the lumpy sky, and all nature , 
calm and pleased, but oh, so wet! Of course the fire was 
out in the lodge and nearly all the wood was wet. Now ; 
Quonab drew from a small cave some dry cedar and got j 
down his tinder-box with flint and steel to light up; but i 
a serious difficulty appeared at once — the tinder was ; 
wet and useless. ' 

These were the days before matches were invented, j 
Every one counted on flint and steel for their fire, but the i 
tinder was an essential, and now a fire seemed hopeless; ; 
at least Rolf thought so. | 

"Nana Bojou was dancing that time," said the Indian. | 
"Did you see him make fire with those two rubbing trees? 
So he taught our fathers, and so make we fire when the : 
tricks of the white man fail us." | 

Quonab now cut two pieces of dry cedar, one three ! 
fourths of an inch thick and eighteen inches long, round, 
and pointed at both ends; the other five eighths of an inch 
thick and flat. In the flat one he cut a notch and at the I 
end of the notch a little pit. Next he made a bow of a 
stiff, curved stick, and a buckskin thong: a small pine | 
knot was selected and a little pit made in it with the ; 
point of a knife. These were the fire-making sticks, but ; 
it was necessary to prepare the firewood, lay the fire, and : 
make some fibre for tinder. A lot of fine cedar shavings, i 

46 i 



The Thunder-storm and the Fire Sticks 



pounded up with cedar bark and rolled into a two-inch 
ball, made good tinder, and all was ready. Quonab put 
the bow thong once around the long stick, then held its 
point in the pit of the flat stick, and the pine knot on the 
top to steady it. Now he drew the bow back and forth, 
slowly, steadily, till the long stick or drill revolving 
ground smoking black dust out of the notch. Then faster, 
until the smoke was very strong and the powder filled the 
notch. Then he lifted the flat stick, fanning the powder 
with his hands till a glowing coal appeared. Over this 
he put the cedar tinder and blew gently, till it flamed, and 
soon the wigwam was aglow. 

The whole time taken, from lifting the sticks to the 
blazing fire, was less than one minute. 

This is the ancient way of the Indian; Rolf had often 
heard of it as a sort of semi- myth; never before had he 
seen it, and so far as he could learn from the books, it took 
an hour or two of hard work, not a few deft touches and 
a few seconds of time. 

He soon learned to do it himself, and in the years which 
followed, he had the curious experience of showing it to 
many Indians who had forgotten how, thanks to the 
greater portability of the white man's flint and steel. 

As they walked in the woods that day, they saw three 
trees that had been struck by lightning during the recent 
storm; all three were oaks. Then it occurred to Rolf 
that he had never seen any but an oak struck by lightning. 
"Is it so, Quonab?" 

"No, there are many others; the lightning strikes the 
oaks most of all, but it will strike the pine, the ash, the 

47 




Rolf in the Woods 

hemlock, the basswood, and many more. Only two trees 
have I never seen struck, the balsam and the birch." 

**Why do they escape?" 

"My father told me when I was a little boy it was be- 
cause they sheltered and warmed the Star-girl, who was 
the sister of the Thunder-bird." 

"I never heard that; tell me about it." 

"Sometime maybe, not now." 




48 



XII 

Hunting the Woodchucks 

CORNMEAL and potatoes, with tea and apples, 
three times a day, are apt to lose their charm. 
Even fish did not entirely satisfy the craving 
for flesh meat. So Quonab and Rolf set out one morning 
on a regular hunt for food. The days of big game were 
over on the Asamuk, but there were still many small kinds 
and none more abundant than the woodchuck, hated of 
farmers. Not without reason. Each woodchuck hole 
in the field was a menace to the horses' legs. Tradition, 
at least, said that horses' legs and riders' necks had been 
broken by the steed setting foot in one of these dangerous 
pitfalls: besides which, each chuck den was the hub centre 
of an area of desolation whenever located, as mostly 
it was, in the cultivated fields. Undoubtedly the damage 
was greatly exaggerated, but the farmers generally agreed 
that the woodchuck was a pest. 

Whatever resentment the tiller of the soil might feel 
against the Indian's hunting quail on his land, he al- 
ways welcomed him as a killer of woodchucks. 

And the Indian looked on this animal as fair game 
and most excellent eating. 

Rolf watched eagerly when Quonab, taking his bow and 

49 



Rolf in the Woods 

arrows, said they were going out for a meat hunt. Al- 
though there were several fields with woodchucks resident, 
they passed cautiously from one to another, scanning the 
green expanse for the dark-brown spots that meant wood- 
chucks out foraging. At length they found one, with a 
large and two small moving brown things among the 
clover. The large one stood up on its hind legs from time 
to time, ever alert for danger. It was a broad, open 
field, without , cover; but close to the cleared place in 
which, doubtless, was the den, there was a ridge that 
Quonab judged would help him to approach. 

Rolf was instructed to stay in hiding and make some 
Indian signs that the hunter could follow when he should 
lose sight of the prey. First, ''Come on" (beckoning); 
and, second, ''Stop" (hand raised, palm forward); "All 
right" (hand drawn across level and waist high); fore- 
finger moved forward, level, then curved straight down, 
meant "gone in hole." But Rolf was not to sign any- 
thing or move, unless Quonab asked him by making the 
question sign (that is waving his hand with palm for- 
ward and spread fingers). 

Quonab went back into the woods, then behind the 
stone walls to get around to the side next the ridge, and 
crawling so flat on his breast in the clover that, although 
it was but a foot high, he was quite invisible to any one 
not placed much above him. 

In this way he came to the little ridge back of the 
woodchuck den, quite unknown to its occupants. But 
now he was in a difficulty. He could not see any of them. 
They were certainly beyond range of his bow, and it was 

so 



Hunting the Woodchucks 

difficult to make them seek the den without their rushing 
into it. But he was equal to the occasion. He raised 
one hand and made the query sign, and watching Rolf 
he got answer, ^'AU well; they are there." (A level 
sweep of the flat hand and a finger pointing steadily.) 
Then he waited a few seconds and made exactly the same 
sign, getting the same answer. 

He knew that the movement of the distant man would 
catch the eye of the old woodchuck; she would sit up 
high to see what it was, and when it came a second time 
she would, without being exactly alarmed, move toward 
the den and call the young ones to follow. 

The hunter had not long to wait. He heard her shrill, 
warning whistle, then the big chuck trotted and waddled 
into sight, stopping occasionally to nibble or look around. 
Close behind her were the two fat cubs. Arrived near the 
den their confidence was restored, and again they began 
to feed, the young ones close to the den. Then Quonab 
put a blunt bird dart in his bow and laid two others 
ready. Rising as little as possible, he drew the bow. 
'Tsip! the blunt arrow hit the young chuck on the nose 
and turned him over. The other jumped in surprise 
and stood up. So did the mother. 'Tsip! another bolt 
and the second chuck was kicking. But the old one 
dashed like a flash into the underground safety of her 
den. Quonab knew that she had seen nothing of him 
and would likely come forth very soon. He waited for 
some time; then the gray-brown muzzle of the fat old 
clover-stealer came partly to view; but it was not enough 
for a shot, and she seemed to have no idea of coming 

SI 




Rolf in the Woods 

farther. The Indian waited what seemed like a long time, 
then played an ancient trick. He began to whistle a 
soft, low air. Whether the chuck thinks it is another 
woodchuck calling, or merely a pleasant sound, is not 
known, but she soon did as her kind always does, came out 
of the hole slowly and ever higher, till she was half out and 
sitting up, peering about. 

This was Quonab's chance. He now drew a barbed 
hunting arrow to the head and aimed it behind her shoul- 
ders. 'Tsip! and the chuck was transfixed by a shaft 
that ended her life a minute later, and immediately pre- 
vented that instinctive scramble into the hole, by which 
so many chucks elude the hunter, even when mortally 
wounded. 

Now Quonab stood up without further concealment, 
and beckoned to Rolf, who came running. Three fat 
woodchucks meant abundance of the finest fresh meat 
for a week; and those who have not tried it have no idea 
what a delicacy is a young, fat, clover-fed woodchuck, 
pan-roasted, with potatoes, and served at a blazing camp- 
fire to a hunter who is young, strong, and exceedingly 
hungry. 



52 



XIII 
The Fight with the Demon of the Deep 

ONE morning, as they passed the trail that skirts 
the pond, Quonab pointed to the near water. 
There was something afloat like a small, round 
leaf, with two beads well apart, on it. Then Rolf noticed, 
two feet away, a larger floating leaf, and now he knew that 
the first was the head and eyes, the last the back, of a 
huge snapping turtle. A moment more and it quickly 
sank from view. Turtles of three different kinds were 
common, and snappers were well known to Rolf; but 
never before had he seen such a huge and sinister-looking 
monster of the deep. 

"That is Bosikado. I know him; he knows me," said 
the red man. "There has long been war between us; 
some day we will settle it. I saw him here first three years 
ago. I had shot a duck; it floated on the water. Before 
I could get to it something pulled it under, and that was 
the last of it. Then a summer duck came with young ones. 
One by one he took them, and at last got her. He drives 
all ducks away, so I set many night lines for him. I got 
some little snappers, eight and ten pounds each. They 
were good to eat, and three times already I took Bosikado 
on the hooks, but each time when I pulled him up to the 

S3 



Rolf in the Woods 

canoe, he broke my biggest line and went down. He was 
as broad as the canoe; his claws broke through the canoe 
skin; he made it bulge and tremble. He looked Hke the 
devil of the lake. / was afraid! 

"But my father taught me there is only one thing that 
can shame a man — that is to be afraid, and I said I will 
never let fear be my guide. I will seek a fair fight with 
Bosikado. He is my enemy. He made me afraid once; 
I will make him much afraid. For three years we have 
been watching each other. For three years he has kept 
all summer ducks away, and robbed my fish-lines, my 
nets, and my muskrat traps. Not often do I see him — 
mostly like to-day. 

"Before Skookum I had a little dog, Nindai. He was 
a good little dog. He could tree a coon, catch a rabbit, or 
bring out a duck, although he was very small. We were 
very good friends. One time I shot a duck; it f 5II into the 
lake; I called Nindai. He jumped into the water and 
swam to the duck. Then that duck that I thought dead 
got up and flew away, so I called Nindai. He came across 
the water to me. By and by, over that deep place, he 
howled and splashed. Then he yelled, like he wanted me. 
I ran for the canoe and paddled quick; I saw my httle dog 
Nindai go down. Then I knew it was that Bosikado 
again. I" worked a long time with a pole, but found 
nothing; only five days later one of Nindai's paws floated 
down the stream. Some day I will tear open that 
Bosikado! 

"Once I saw him on the bank. He rolled down like 
a big stone to the water. He looked at me before he 

54 



The Fight with the Demon of the Deep 

dived, and as we looked in each other's eyes I knew he 
was a Manito; but he is evil, and my father said, 
When an evil Manito comes to trouble you, you must 
kill him.' 

"One day, when I swam after a dead duck, he took 
me by the toe, but I reached shallow water and escaped 
him; and once I drove my fish-spear in his back, but it 
was not strong enough to hold him. Once he caught 
Skookum's tail, but the hair came out; the dog has not 
since swum across the pond. 

"Twice I have seen him like to-day and might have 
killed him with the gun, but I want to meet him fighting. 
Many a time I have sat on the bank and sung to him the 
'Coward's Song,' and dared him to come and fight in the 
shallow water where we are equals. He hears me. He 
does not come. 

"I know he made me sick last winter; even now he is 
making trouble with his evil magic. But my magic must 
prevail, and some day we shall meet. He made me 
afraid once. / will make him much afraid, and will meet 
him in the water J^ 

Not many days were to pass before the meeting. Rolf 
had gone for water at the well, which was a hole dug 
ten feet from the shore of the lake. He had learned the 
hunter's cautious trick of going silently and peering about, 
before he left cover. On a mud bank in a shallow bay, some 
fifty yards off, he described a peculiar gray and greenish 
form that he slowly made out to be a huge turtle, sunning 
itself. The more he looked and gauged it with things 

55 



Rolf in the Woods 

about, the bigger it seemed. So he slunk back quickly 
and silently to Quonab. "He is out sunning himself — 
Bosikado — on the bank!'' 

The Indian rose quickly, took his tomahawk and a 
strong Hne. Rolf reached for the gun, but Quonab shook 
his head. They went to the lake. Yes! There was the 
great, goggle-eyed monster, like a mud-coloured log. The 
bank behind him was without cover. It would be impossi- 
ble to approach the watchful creature within striking 
distance before he could dive. Quonab would not use 
the gun; in this case he felt he must atone by making an 
equal fight. He quickly formed a plan; he fastened the 
tomahawk and the coiled rope to his belt, then boldly 
and silently slipped into the lake, to approach the snapper 
from the water side — quite the easiest in this case, not only 
because the snapper would naturally watch on the land 
side, but because there was a thick clump of rushes behind 
which the swimmer could approach. 

Then, as instructed, Rolf went back into the woods, 
and came silently to a place whence he could watch the 
snapper from a distance of twenty yards. 

The boy's heart beat fast as he watched the bold swimmer 
and the savage reptile. There could be little doubt that 
the creature weighed a hundred pounds. It is the strongest 
for its size and the fiercest of all reptiles. Its jaws, though 
toothless, have cutting edges, a sharp beak, and power 
to the crushing of bones. Its armour makes it invulner- 
able to birds and beasts of prey. Like a log it lay on the 
beach, with its long alligator tail stretched up the bank 
and its serpentine head and tiny wicked eyes vigilantly 

56 ^ 





*i 



The Fight with the Demon of the Deep 

watching the shore. Its shell, broad and ancient, was 
fringed with green moss, and its scaly armpits exposed, 
were decked with leeches, at which a couple of peetweets 
pecked with eager interest, apparently to the monster's 
satisfaction. Its huge limbs and claws were in marked 
contrast to the small, red eyes. But the latter it was that 
gave the thrill of unnervement. 

Sunk down nearly out of sight, the Indian slowly reached 
the reeds. Here he found bottom, and pausing, he took 
the rope in one hand, the tomahawk in the other, and 
dived, and when he reappeared he was within ten yards 
of the enemy, and in water but four feet deep. 

With a sudden rush the reptile splashed into the pond 
and out of sight, avoiding the rope noose. But Quonab 
clutched deep in the water as it passed, and seized the 
monster's rugged tail. Then it showed its strength. In 
a twinkling that mighty tail was swung sidewise, crushing 
the hand with terrible force against the sharp-edged points 
of the back armour. It took all the Indian's grit to hold 
on to that knife-edged war club. He dropped his toma- 
hawk, then with his other hand swung the rope to catch 
the turtle's head, but it lurched so quickly that the rope 
missed again, slipped over the shell, and, as they struggled, 
encircled one huge paw. The Indian jerked it tight, and 
they were bound together. But now his only weapon 
was down at the bottom and the water all muddied. He 
could not see, but plunged to grope for the tomahawk. 
The snapper gave a great lurch to escape, releasing the 
injured hand, but jerking the man off his legs. Then, 
finding itself held by a forepaw, it turned with gaping, 

57 



I 



Rolf in the Woods 

hissing jaws, and sprang on the foe that struggled in the 
bottom of the water. 

The snapper has the bulldog habit to seize and hold till 
the piece tears out. In the muddy water it had to seize 
in the dark, and finding first the left arm of its foe, fastened 
on with fierce beak and desperate strength. At this 
moment Quonab recovered his tomahawk; rising into 
the air he dragged up the hanging snapper, and swung the 
weapon with all the force of his free arm. The blow sank 
through the monster's shell, deep into its back, without 
any visible effect, except to rob the Indian of his weapon, 
as he could not draw it out. 

Then Rolf rushed into the water to help. But Quonab 
gasped, "No, no, go back — I'm alone." 

The creature's jaws were locked on his arm, but its 
front claws, tearing downward and outward, were de- 
molishing the coat that had protected it, and long lines 
of mingled blood were floating on the waves. 

After a desperate plunge toward shallow water, Quonab 
gave another wrench to the tomahawk — it moved, 
loosed; another, and it was free. Then "chop, chop, 
chop," and that long, serpentine neck was severed; the 
body, waving its great scaly legs and lashing its alligator 
tail, went swimming downward, but the huge head, blink- 
ing its bleary, red eyes and streaming with blood, was 
clinched on his arm. The Indian made for the bank, 
hauling the rope that held the living body, and fastened 
it to a tree, then drew his knife to cut the jaw muscles of 
the head that ground its beak into his flesh. But the 
muscles were protected by armour plates and bone; 

SB 



The Fight with the Demon of the Deep 

he could not deal a stab to end their power. In vain he 
fumbled and slashed, until in a spasmodic quiver the jaws 
gaped wide and the bloody head fell to the ground. Again 
it snapped, but a tree branch bore the brunt; on this the 
strong jaws clinched, and so remained. 

For over an hour the headless body crawled, or tried 
to crawl, always toward the lake. And now they could 
look at the enemy. Not his size so much as his weight 
surprised them. Although barely four feet long, he was 
so heavy that Rolf could not lift him. Quonab's scratches 
were many but slight; only the deep bill wound made on 
his arm and the bruises of the jaws were at all serious, 
and of these he made light. Headed by Skookum in full 
*yap,' they carried the victim's body to camp; the grim 
head, still clutching the stick, was decorated with three 
feathers, then set on a pole near the wigwam. And the 
burden of the red man's song when next he sang was: 

"Bosikado, mine enemy was mighty, 
But I went into his country 
And made him afraid!" 




59 



XIV 

Selectman Horton Appears at the Rock 

SUMMER was at its height on the Asamuk. The 
woodthrush was nearing the end of its song; 
a vast concourse of young robins in their speckled 
plumage joined chattering every night in the thickest 
cedars; and one or two broods of young ducks were seen 
on the Pipestave Pond. 

Rolf had grown wonderfully well into his wigwam life. 
He knew now exactly how to set the flap so as to draw 
out all the smoke, no matter which way the wind blew; 
he had learned the sunset signs, which tell what change 
of wind the night might bring. He knew without going 
to the shore whether the tide was a little ebb, with poor 
chances, or a mighty outflow that would expose the fattest 
oyster beds. His practiced fingers told at a touch whether 
it was a turtle or a big fish on his night line; and by the 
tone of the tom-tom he knew when a rainstorm was at 
hand. 

Being trained in industry, he had made many improve- 
ments in their camp, not the least of which was to clean 
up and burn all the rubbish and garbage that attracted 
hordes of flies. He had fitted into the camp partly by 
changing it to fit himself, and he no longer felt that his 

60 



Selectman Horton Appears at the Rock 

stay there was a temporary shift. When it was to end, 
he neither knew nor cared . He realized only that he was 
enjoying life as he never had done before. His canoe 
had passed a lot of rapids and was now in a steady, un- 
broken stream — but it was the swift shoot before the fall. 
A lull in the clamour does not mean the end of war, but a 
new onset preparing; and, of course, it came in the way 
least looked for. 

Selectman Horton stood well with the community; he 
was a man of good judgment, good position, and kind 
heart. He was owner of all the woods along the Asamuk, 
and thus the Indian's landlord on the Indian's ancestral 
land. Both Rolf and Quonab had worked for Horton, 
and so they knew him well, and liked him for his goodness. 

It was Wednesday morning, late in July, when Select- 
man Horton, clean-shaven and large, appeared at the wig- 
wam under the rock. 

"Good morrow to ye both!" Then without wasting 
time he plunged in. "There's been some controversy 
and much criticism of the selectmen for allowing a white 
lad, the child of Christian parents, the grandson of a clergy- 
man, to leave all Christian folk and folds, and herd with a 
pagan, to become, as it were, a mere barbarian. I hold 
not, indeed, with those that out of hand would condemn 
as godless a good fellow like Quonab, who, in my certain 
knowledge and according to his poor light, doth indeed 
maintain in some kind a daily worship of a sort. Never- 
theless, the selectmen, the magistrates, the clergy, the 
people generally, and above all the Missionary Society, 
are deeply moved in the matter. It hath even been made 

6i 



Rolf in the Woods 




a personal charge against myself, and with much bitterness 
I am held up as unzealous for allowing such a nefarious 
stronghold of Satan to continue on mine own demesne, 
and harbour one, escaped, as it were, from grace. Acting, 
therefore, not according to my heart, but as spokesman of 
the Town Council, the Synod of Elders, and the Society 
for the Promulgation of Godliness among the Heathen, 
I am to state that you, Rolf Kittering, being without kins- 
folk and under age, are in verity a ward of the parish, 
and as such, it hath been arranged that you become a 
member of the household of the most worthy Elder Ezekiel 
Peck, a household filled with the spirit of estimable piety 
and true doctrine; a man, indeed, who, notwithstanding 
his exterior coldness and severity, is very sound in all 
matters regarding the Communion of Saints, and, I may 
even say in a measure a man of fame for some most ex- 
cellent remarks he hath passed on the shorter catechism, 
beside which he hath gained much approval for having 
pointed out two hidden meanings in the 27 th verse of the 
12th chapter of Hebrews; one whose very presence, 
therefore, is a guarantee against levity, laxity, and false 
preachment. 

"There, now, my good lad; look not so like a colt that 
feels the whip for the first time. You will have a good 
home, imbued with the spirit of a most excellent piety 
that will be ever about you. " 

"Like a colt feeling the whip," indeed! Rolf reeled like 
a stricken deer. To go back as a chore-boy drudge was 
possible, but not alluring; to leave Quonab, just as the wood 
world was opening to him, was devastating; but to ex- 

62 



Selectman Horton Appears at the Rock 

change it all for bondage in the pious household of Old Peck, 
whose cold cruelty had driven off all his own children, was 
an accumulation of disasters that aroused him. 

"I won't go!" he blurted out, and gazed defiantly at 
the broad and benevolent selectman. 

"Come now, Rolf, such language is unbecoming. Let 
not a hasty tongue betray you into sin. This is what 
your mother would have wished. Be sensible; you will 
soon find it was all for the best. I have ever liked you, 
and will ever be a friend you can coimt on. 

"Acting, not according to my instructions, but accord- 
ing to my heart, I will say further that you need not 
come now, you need not even give answer now, but think 
it over. Nevertheless, remember that on or before Mon- 
day morning next, you will be expected to appear at Elder 
Peck's, and I fear that, in case you fail, the messenger next 
arriving will be one much less friendly than myself. 
Come now, Rolf, be a good lad, and remember that in 
your new home you will at least be living for the glory of 
God." 

Then, with a friendly nod, but an expression of sorrow, 
the large, black messenger turned and tramped away. 

Rolf slowly, limply, sank down on a rock and stared at 
the fire. After awhile Quonab got up and began to pre- 
pare the mid-day meal. Usually Rolf helped him. Now he 
did nothing but sullenly glare at the glowing coals. In 
half an hour the food was ready. He ate little; then went 
away in the woods by himself. Quonab saw him lying 
on a flat rock, looking at the pond, and throwing pebbles 
into it. Later Quonab went to Myanos. On his return 

63 



Rolf in the Woods 

he found that Rolf had cut up a great pile of wood, but not 
a word passed between them. The look of sullen anger 
and rebellion on Rolf's face was changing to one of stony 
despair. What was passing in each mind the other could 
not divine. 

The evening meal was eaten in silence; then Quonab 
smoked for an hour, both staring into the fire. A barred 
owl hooted and laughed over their heads, causing the dog 
to jump up and bark at the sound that ordinarily he would 
have heeded not at all. Then silence was restored, and the 
red man's hidden train of thought was in a flash revealed. 

"Rolf, let's go to the North Woods!" 

It was another astounding idea. Rolf had realized 
more and more how much this valley meant to Quonab, 
who worshipped the memory of his people. 

"And leave all this?" he replied, making a sweep with 
his hand toward the rock, the Indian trail, the site of 
bygone Petuquapen, and the graves of the tribe. 

For reply their eyes met, and from the Indian's deep 
chest came the single word, "Ugh." One syllable, deep 
and descending, but what a tale it told of the slowly en- 
gendered and strong-grown partiality, of a struggle that 
had continued since the morning when the selectman came 
with words of doom, and of friendship's victory won. 

Rolf realized this, and it gave him a momentary chok- 
ing in his throat, and, "I'm ready if you really mean it." 

"Ugh! I go, but some day come back." 

There was a long silence, then Rolf, "When shall we 
start?" and the answer, "To-morrow night." 



64 



XV 

Bound for the North Woods 

WHEN Quonab left camp in the morning he went 
heavy laden, and the trail he took led to Myanos. 
There was nothing surprising in it when he 
appeared at Silas Peck's counter and ojffered for sale a 
pair of snowshoes, a bundle of traps, some dishes of birch 
bark and basswood, and a tom-tom, receiving in exchange 
some tea, tobacco, gunpowder, and two dollars in cash. 
He turned without comment, and soon was back in camp. 
He now took the kettle into the woods and brought it 
back filled with bark, fresh chipped from a butternut 
tree. Water was added, and the whole boiled till it made 
a deep brown liquid. When this was cooled he poured 
it into a flat dish, then said to Rolf: "Come now, I make 
you a Sinawa." 

With a soft rag the colour was laid on. Face, head, 
neck, and hands were all at first intended, but Rolf said, 
"May as well do the whole thing." So he stripped off; 
the yellow brown juice on his white skin turned it a rich 
copper colour, and he was changed into an Indian lad that 
none would have taken for Rolf Kittering. The stains 
soon dried, and Rolf, re-clothed, felt that already he had 
burned a bridge. 

65 




Rolf in the Woods 

Two portions of the wigwam cover were taken off; and 
two packs were made of the bedding. The tomahawk, 
bows, arrows, and gun, with the few precious food pounds 
in the copper pot, were divided between them and ar- 
ranged into packs with shoulder straps; then all was ready. 
But there was one thing more for Quonab; he went up 
alone to the rock. Rolf knew what he went for, and judged 
it best not to follow. 

The Indian lighted his pipe, blew the four smokes to 
the four winds, beginning with the west, then he sat in 
silence for a time. Presently the prayer for good hunting 
came from the rock: 

"Father lead us! 
Father, help us! 
Father, guide us to the good hunting." 

And when that ceased a barred owl hooted in the woods, 
away to the north. 

''Ugh! good," was all he said as he rejoined Rolf; and 
they set out, as the sun went down, on their long journey 
due northward, Quonab, Rolf, and Skookum. They had 
not gone a hundred yards before the dog turned back, raced 
to a place where he had a bone in cache and rejoining them 
trotted along with his bone. 

The high road would have been the easier travelling, but 
it was very necessary to be unobserved, so they took the 
trail up the brook Asamuk, and after an hour's tramp came 
out by the Cat-Rock road that runs westerly. Again they 
were tempted by the easy path, but again Quonab decided 
on keeping to the woods. Half an hour later they were 

66 



Bound for the North Woods 



halted by Skookum treeing a coon. After they had secured 
the dog, they tramped on through the woods for two hours 
more, and then, some eight miles from the Pipestave, 
they halted, Rolf, at least, tired out. It was now midnight. 
They made a hasty double bed of the canvas cover over 
a pole above them, and slept till morning, cheered, as 
they closed their drowsy eyes, by the *'Hoo, Hoo, Hoo, 
Hoo, yah, hoo," of their friend, the barred owl, still 
to the northward. 

The sun was high, and Quonab had breakfast ready 
before Rolf awoke. He was so stiff with the tramp and 
the heavy pack that it was with secret joy he learned that 
they were to rest, concealed in the woods, that day, and 
travel only by night, until in a different region, where none 
knew or were likely to stop them. They were now in 
York State, but that did not by any means imply that 
they were beyond pursuit. 

As the sun rose high, Rolf went forth with his bow and 
blunt arrows, and then, thanks largely to Skookum, he 
succeeded in knocking over a couple of squirrels, which, 
skinned and roasted, made their dinner that day. At 
night they set out as before, making about ten miles. The 
third night they did better, and the next day being Sunday, 
they kept out of sight. But Monday morning, bright and 
clear, although it was the first morning when they were 
sure of being missed, they started to tramp openly along 
the highway, with a sense of elation that they had not 
hitherto known on the journey. Two things im- 
pressed Rolf by their novelty: the curious stare of the 
country folk whose houses and teams they passed, and 

67 







Rolf in the Woods 

the violent antagonism of the dogs. Usually the latter 
could be quelled by shaking a stick at them, or by pre- 
tending to pick up a stone, but one huge and savage 
brindled mastiff kept following and barking just out of 
stick range, and managed to give Skookum a mauling, 
until Quonab drew his bow and let fly a blunt arrow that 
took the brute on the end of the nose, and sent him howl- 
ing homeward, while Skookum got a few highly satisfac- 
tory nips at the enemy's rear. Twenty miles they made 
that day and twenty-five the next, for now they were on 
good roads, and their packs were lighter. More than 
once they found kind farmer folk who gave them a meal. 
But many times Skookum made trouble for them. The 
farmers did not like the way he behaved among their 
hens. Skookum never could be made to grasp the fine 
zoological distinction between partridges which are large 
birds and fair game, and hens which are large birds, 
but not fair game. Such hair spHtting was obviously 
unworthy of study, much less of acceptance. 

Soon it was clearly better for Rolf, approaching a 
house, to go alone, while Quonab held Skookum. The 
dogs seemed less excited by Rolf's smell, and remem- 
bering his own attitude when tramps came to one or 
another of his ancient homes, he always asked if they 
would let him work for a meal, and soon remarked that 
his success was better when he sought first the women 
of the house, and then, smiling to show his very white 
teeth, spoke in clear and un-Indian English, which had 
the more effect coming from an evident Indian. 

** Since I am to be an Indian, Quonab, you must give 

68 






^y -^ 



■^ ^^ 




Tne fanners did not like tne way Skookum behaved among their hens 



Bound for the North Woods 

me an Indian name," he said after one of these 
episodes. 

"Ugh! Good! That's easy! You are 'Nibowaka,' 
the wise one." For the Indian had not missed any of 
the points, and so he was named. 

Twenty or thirty miles a day they went now, avoiding 
the settlements along the river. Thus they saw nothing 
of Albany, but on the tenth day they reached Fort Edward, 
and for the first time viewed the great Hudson. Here 
they stayed as short a time as might be, pushed on by 
Glen's Falls, and on the eleventh night of the journey 
they passed the old, abandoned fort, and sighted the 
long stretch of Lake George, with its wooded shore, and 
glimpses of the mountains farther north. 

Now a new thought possessed them — "If only they 
had the canoe that they had abandoned on the Pipe- 
stave." It came to them both at the sight of the limit- 
less water, and especially when Rolf remembered that Lake 
George joined with Champlain, which again was the high- 
way to all the wilderness. 

They camped now as they had fifty times before, and 
made their meal. The bright blue water dancing near 
was alluring, inspiring; as they sought the shore Quonab 
pointed to a track and said, "Deer." He did not show 
much excitement, but Rolf did, and they returned to the 
camp fire with a new feeling of elation — they had reached 
the Promised Land. Now they must prepare for the 
serious work of finding a hunting ground that was not 
already claimed. 

Quonab, remembering the ancient law of the woods, 

69 



Rolf in the Woods 

that parcels off the valleys, each to the hunter first 
arriving, or succeeding the one who had, was following his 
own line of thought. Rolf was puzzling over means to 
get an outfit, canoe, traps, axes, and provisions. The 
boy broke silence. 

"Quonab, we must have money to get an outfit; this 
is the beginning of harvest; we can easily get work for a 
month. That will feed us and give us money enough to 
live on, and a chance to learn something about the country." 

The reply was simple, "You are Nibowaka.'* 

The farms were few and scattered here, but there were 
one or two along the lake. To the nearest one with 
standing grain Rolf led the way. But their reception, 
from the first brush with the dog to the final tilt with 
the farmer, was unpleasant — "He didn't want any dam 
red-skins around there. He had had two St. Regis In- 
dians last year, and they were a couple of drunken good- 
for-nothings." 

The next was the house of a fat Dutchman, who was 
just wondering how he should meet the compounded ac- 
cumulated emergencies of late hay, early oats, weedy 
potatoes, lost cattle, and a prospective increase of his 
family, when two angels of relief appeared at his door in 
copper-coloured skins. 

"Cahn yo work putty goood?" 

"Yes, I have always lived on a farm," and Rolf showed 
his hands, broad and heavy for his years. 

"Cahn yo mebby find my lost cows, which I haf not 
find, already yet?" 

Could they! it would be fun to try. 

70 



Bound for the North Woods 



"I giff yo two dollars you pring dem putty kvick." 
So Quonab took the trail to the woods, and Rolf started 
into the potatoes with a hoe, but he was stopped by a 
sudden outcry of poultry. Alas! It was Skookum on 
an ill-judged partridge hunt. A minute later he was 
ignominiously chained to a penitential post, nor left it 
during the travellers' sojourn. 

In the afternoon Quonab returned with the cattle, and 
as he told Rolf he saw five deer, there was an unmistak- 
able hunter gleam in his eye. 

Three cows in milk, and which had not been milked 
for two days, was a serious matter, needing immediate at- 
tention. Rolf had milked five cows twice a day for five 
years, and a glance showed old Van Trumper that the boy 
was an expert. 
"Good, good! I go now make feed swine." 
He went into the outhouse, but a tow-topped, red- 
cheeked girl ran after him. ''Father, father, mother 



says 



and the rest was lost. 



"Myn Hemel! Myn Hemel! I thought it not so soon," 
and the fat Dutchman followed the child. A 
moment later he reappeared, his jolly face clouded with 
a look of grave concern. ''Hi yo big Injun, yo cahn 
paddle canoe? " Quonab nodded. "Den coom. Annette, 
pring Tomas und Hendrik." So the father carried 
two -year -old Hendrik, while the Indian carried 
six-year-old Tomas, and twelve - year - old Annette 
followed in vague, uncomprehended alarm. Arrived 
at the shore the children were placed in the canoe, 
and then the difficulties came fully to the father's 

71 



•^ \ 



i 1 






5 



Rolf in the Woods 

mind — he could not leave his wife. He must send the 
children with the messenger — In a sort of desperation, 
"Cahn you dem childen take to de house across de lake, 
and pring back Mrs. Callan? Tell her Marta Van 
Trumper need her right now mooch very kvick.'^ The 
Indian nodded. Then the father hesitated, but a glance 
at the Indian was enough. Something said, "He is safe," 
and in spite of sundry wails from the little ones left with 
a dark stranger, he pushed off the canoe: **Yo take care 
for my babies," and turned his brimming eyes away. 

The farmhouse was only two miles off, and the evening 
calm; no time was lost: what woman will not instantly 
drop all work and all interests, to come to the help of 
another in the trial time of motherhood? 

Within an hour the neighbour's wife was holding hands 
with the mother of the banished tow-heads. He who 
tempers the wind and appoints the season of the wild 
deer hinds had not forgotten the womanhood beyond the 
reach of skilful human help, and with the hard and lone- 
some Ufe had conjoined a sweet and blessed compensation. 
What would not her sister of the city give for such im- 
munity; and long before that dark, dread hour of night 
that brings the ebbing life force low, the wonderful miracle 
was complete; there was another tow-top in the settler^s 
home, and all was well. 



72 



XVI 

Life with the Dutch Settler 

THE Indians slept in the luxuriant barn of logs, 
with blankets, plenty of hay, and a roof. They 
were more than content, for now, on the edge 
of the wilderness, they were very close to wild life. Not 
a day or a night passed without bringing proof of that. 

One end of the barn was portioned off for poultry. In 
this the working staff of a dozen hens were doing their 
duty, which, on that first night of the "brown angels' 
visit," consisted of silent slumber, when all at once the 
hens and the new hands were aroused by a clamorous 
cackling, which speedily stopped. It sounded like a hen 
falling in a bad dream, then regaining her perch to go to 
sleep again. But next morning the body of one of these 
highly esteemed branches of the egg-plant was found in 
the corner, partly devoured. Quonab examined the head- 
less hen, the dust around, and uttered the word, "Mink." 

Rolf said, "Why not skunk?" 

"Skunk could not climb to the perch." 

"Weasel then." 

"Weasel would only suck the blood, and would kill 
three or four." 

"Well, coon." 

73 



^^mm^ 



Rolf in the Woods 

"Coon would carry him away, so would fox or wildcat, 
and a marten would not come into the building by night." 

There was no question, first, that it was a mink, and, 
second, that he was hiding about the barn until the hunger 
pang should send him again to the hen house. Quonab 
covered the hen's body with two or three large stones so 
that there was only one approach. In the way of this 
approach he buried a "number one" trap. 

That night they were aroused again; this time by a 
frightful screeching, and a sympathetic, inquiring cackle 
from the fowls. 

Arising, quickly they entered with a lantern. Rolf then 
saw a sight that gave him a, prickling in his hair. The 
mink, a large male, was caught by one front paw. He 
was writhing and foaming, tearing, sometimes at the trap, 
sometimes at the dead hen, and sometimes at his own 
imprisoned foot, pausing now and then to utter the most 
ear-piercing shrieks, then falling again in crazy animal 
fury on the trap, splintering his sharp white teeth, grind- 
ing the cruel metal with bruised and bloody jaws, 
frothing, snarling, raving mad. As his foemen entered 
he turned on them a hideous visage of inexpressible fear 
and hate, rage and horror. His eyes glanced back green 
fire in the lantern light; he strained in renewed efforts to 
escape; the air was j^nk with his musky smell. The im- 
potent fury of his struggle made a picture that continued 
in Rolf's mind. Quonab took a stick and with a single 
blow put an end to the scene, but never did Rolf forget 
it, and never afterward was he a willing partner when the 
trapping was done with those relentless jaws of steel. 

74 



Life with the Dutch Settler 

A week later another hen was missing, and the door of 
the hen house left open. After a careful examination of 
the dust, inside and out of the building, Quonab said, 
"Coon." It is very unusual for coons to raid a hen house. 
Usually it is some individual with abnormal tastes, and 
once he begins, he is sure to come back. The Indian 
judged that he might be back the next night, so prepared 
a trap. A rope was passed from the door latch to a tree; 
on this rope a weight was hung, so that the door was self- 
shutting, and to make it self -locking he leaned a long pole 
against it inside. Now he propped it open with a shingle 
platform, so set that the coon must walk on it once he was 
inside, and so release the door. The trappers thought 
they would hear in the night when the door closed, but 
they were sleepy; they knew nothing until next morning. 
Then they found that the self-shutter had shut, and inside, 
crouched in one of the nesting boxes, was a tough, old 
fighting coon. Strange to tell, he had not touched a second 
hen. As soon as he found himself a prisoner he had 
experienced a change of heart, and presently his skin 
was nailed on the end of the barn and his meat was hanging 
in the larder. 

"Is this a marten," asked little Annette. And when 
told not, her disappointment elicited the information that 
old Warren, the storekeeper, had promised her a blue 
cotton dress for a marten skin. 

"You shall have the first one I catch," said Rolf. 

Life in Van Trumper's was not unpleasant. The mother 
was going about again in a week. Annette took charge 
of the baby, as well as of the previous arrivals. Hendrik 

75 




Rolf in the Woods 

senior was gradually overcoming his difficulties, thanks to 
the unexpected help, and a kindly spirit made the hard 
work not so very hard. The shyness that was at first 
felt toward the Indians wore off, especially in the case of 
Rolf, he was found so companionable; and the Dutchman, 
after puzzling over the combination of brown skin and 
blue eyes, decided that Rolf was a half-breed. 

August wore on not unpleasantly for the boy, but Quo- 
nab was getting decidedly restless. He could work for a 
week as hard as any white man, but his race had not risen 
to the dignity of patient, unremitting, life-long toil. 

*'How much money have we now, Nibowaka?" was one 
of the mid-August indications of restlessness. Rolf 
reckoned up; half a month for Quonab, $15.00; for himself, 
$10.00; for finding the cows $2.00 — $27.00 in all. Not 
enough. 

Three days later Quonab reckoned up again. Next 
day he said: "We need two months' open water to find 
a good country and build a shanty. '^ Then did Rolf do 
the wise thing; he went to fat Hendrik and told him all 
about it. They wanted to get a canoe and an outfit, and 
seek for a trapping or hunting ground that would not 
encroach on those already possessed, for the trapping law 
is rigid; even the death penalty is not considered too high 
in certain cases of trespass, provided the injured party 
is ready to be judge, jury, and executioner. Van Trumper 
was able to help them not a little in the matter of location 
— there was no use trying on the Vermont side, nor any- 
where near Lake Champlain, nor near Lake George; 
neither was it worth while going to the far North, as the 

76 



Life with the Dutch Settler 

Frenchmen came in there, and they were keen hunters, 
so that Hamilton County was more promising than any 
other, but it was almost inaccessible, remote from all the 
great waterways, and of course without roads; its inacces- 
sibility was the reason why it was little known. 

So far so good ; but happy Hendrik was unpleasantly sur- 
prised to learn that the new help were for leaving at once. 
Finally he made this offer: If they would stay till Sep- 
tember first, and so leave all in "good shape fer der vinter," 
he would, besides the wages agreed, give them the canoe, 
one axe, six mink traps, and a fox trap now hanging in 
the barn, and carry them in his wagon as far as the Five- 
mile portage from Lake George to Schroon River, down 
which they could go to its junction with the upper Hudson, 
which, followed up through forty miles of rapids and hard 
portages, would bring them to a swampy river that enters 
from the southwest, and ten miles up this would bring them 
to Jesup's Lake, which is two miles wide and twelve miles 
long. This country abounded with game, but was so 
hard to enter that after Jesup's death it was deserted. 

There was only one possible answer to such an offer 
— they stayed. 

In spare moments Quonab brought the canoe up to the 
barn, stripped o^ some weighty patches of bark and 
canvas and some massive timber thwarts, repaired the 
ribs, and when dry and gummed, its weight was below 
one hundred pounds; a saving of at least forty pounds 
on the soggy thing he crossed the lake in that first day on 
the farm. 

September came. Early in the morning Quonab went 

77 



Rolf in the Woods 

alone to the lakeside; there on a hill top he sat, looking 
toward the sunrise, and sang a song of the new dawn, 
beating, not with a tom-tom — he had none — but with 
one stick on another. And when the sunrise possessed 
the earth he sang again the hunter's song: 

* ^Father, guide our feet. 
Lead us to the good hunting." 

Then he danced to the sound, his face skyward, his 
eyes closed, his feet barely raised, but rythmically moved. 
So went he three times round to the chant in three sun 
circles, dancing a sacred measure, as royal David might 
have done that day when he danced around the Ark of the 
Covenant on its homeward journey. His face was il- 
lumined, and no man could have seen him then without 
knowing that this was a true heart's worship of a true God, 
who is in all things He has made. 



f 



er 






r 



i 



78 



XVII 
Canoeing on the Upper Hudson 

There is only one kind of a man I can't size up; that's the feller that 
shets up and says nothing. — Sayings of Si Sylvanne, 

A SETTLER named Hulett had a scow that was 
borrowed by the neighbours whenever needed to 
take a team across the lake. On the morning 
of their journey, the Dutchman's team and wagon, the 
canoe and the men, were aboard the scow, Skookum took 
his proper place at the prow, and all was ready for " Good- 
bye." Rolf found it a hard word to say. The good old 
Dutch mother had won his heart, and the children were 
like his brothers and sisters. 

"Coom again, lad; coom and see us kvick." She 
kissed him, he kissed Annette and the three later issues. 
They boarded the scow to ply the poles till the deep water 
was reached, then the oars. An east wind springing up 
gave them a chance to profit by a wagon-cover rigged as 
a sail, and two hours later the scow was safely landed at 
West Side, where was a country store, and the head of 
the wagon road to the Schroon River. 

As they approached the door, they saw a rough-looking 
man slouching against the building, his hands in his 
pockets, his blear eyes taking in the new-comers with a 

79 



Rolf in the Woods 

look of contemptuous hostility. As they passed, he 
spat tobacco juice on the dog and across the feet of 
the men. 

Old Warren who kept the store was not partial to 
Indians, but he was a good friend of Hendrik and very 
keen to trade for fur, so the new trappers were well re- 
ceived; and now came the settling of accounts. Flour, 
oatmeal, pork, potatoes, tea, tobacco, sugar, salt, powder, 
ball, shot, clothes, lines, an inch-auger, nails, knives, awls, 
needles, files, another axe, some tin plates, and a frying- 
pan were selected and added to Hendrik's account. 

"If I was you, I'd take a windy-sash; you'll find it 
mighty convenient in cold weather." The store keeper 
led them into an outhouse where was a pile of six-lighted 
window-frames all complete. So the awkward thing was 
added to their load. 

''Can't I sell you a fine rifle?" and he took down a new, 
elegant small bore of the latest pattern. ''Only twenty- 
five dollars." Rolf shook his head; "part down, and I'll 
take the rest in fur next spring. ' ' Rolf was sorely tempted ; 
however, he had an early instilled horror of debt. He 
steadfastly said: "No." But many times he regretted it 
afterward! The small balance remaining was settled in 
cash. 

As they were arranging and selecting, they heard a 
most hideous yelping outdoors, and a minute later Skoo- 
kum limped in, crying as if half-killed. Quonab was out 
in a moment. 

" Did you kick my dog? " v 

The brutal loafer changed countenance as he caught 

80 



Canoeing on the Upper Hudson 

the red man's eye. ''Naw! never touched him; hurted 
himself on that rake." 

It was obviously a lie, but better to let it pass, and 
Quonab came in again. 

Then the rough stranger appeared at the door and 
growled: ^'Say, Warren! ain't you going to let me have 
that rifle? I guess my word's as good as the next man's." 

"No," said Warren; ''I told you, no!" 

"Then you can go to blazes, and you'll never see a 
cent's worth of fur from the stuff I got last year." 

"I don't expect to," was the reply; "I've learned what 
your word's worth." And the stranger slouched away. 

"Who vas he?" asked Hendrik. 

"I only know that his name is Jack Hoag, he's a little 
bit of a trapper and a big bit of a bum; stuck me last year. 
He doesn't come out this way; they say he goes out by the 
west side of the mountains." 

New light on their course was secured from Warren, 
and above all, the important information that the mouth 
of Jesup's River was marked by an eagle's nest in a dead 
pine. ''Up to that point keep the main stream, and don't 
forget next spring I'm buying fur." 

The drive across Five-mile portage was slow. It took 
over two hours to cover it, but late that day they reached 
the Schroon. 

Here the Dutchman said "Good-bye: Coom again 
some noder time." Skookum saluted the farmer with 
a final growl, then Rolf and Quonab were left alone in the 
wilderness. 

It was after sundown, so they set about camping for the 

8i 




Rolf in the Woods 

night. A wise camper always prepares bed and shelter 
in daylight, if possible. While Rolf made a fire and hung 
the kettle, Quonab selected a level, dry place between two 
trees, and covered it with spruce boughs to make the beds, 
and last a low tent was made by putting the lodge cover 
over a pole between the trees. The ends of the covers 
were held down by loose green logs quickly cut for the 
purpose, and now they were safe against weather. 

Tea, potatoes, and fried pork, with maple syrup and 
hard- tack, made their meal of the time, after which there 
was a long smoke. Quonab took a stick of red willow, 
picked up- in the daytime, and began shaving it toward 
one end, leaving the curling shreds still on the stick. When 
these were bunched in a fuzzy mop, he held them over the 
fire until they were roasted brown; then, grinding all up in 
his palm with some tobacco, and filling his pipe he soon was 
enveloped in that odour of woodsy smoke called the "Indian 
smell," by many who do not know whence or how it comes. 
Rolf did not smoke. He had promised his mother that he 
would not until he was a man, and something brought her 
back home now with overwhelming force; that was the 
beds they had made of fragrant balsam boughs. " Cho-ko- 
tung or blister tree" as Quonab called it. His mother had 
a little sofa pillow, brought from the North — a "northern 
pine" pillow they called it, for it was stuffed with pine 
needles of a kind not growing in Connecticut. Many a 
time had Rolf as a baby pushed his little round nose into 
that bag to inhale the delicious odour it gave forth, and 
so it became the hallowed smell of all that was dear in his 
babyhood, and it never lost its potency. Smell never does. 

82 



Canoeing: on the Upper Hudson 



Oh, mighty aura! that, in marching by the nostrils, can reach 
and move the soul; how wise the church that makes this 
power its handmaid, and through its incense overwhelms 
all alien thought when the worshipper, wandering, doubting, 
comes again to see if it be true, that here doubt dies. Oh, 
queen of memory that is master of the soul! how fearful 
should we be of letting evil thought associated grow with 
some recurrent odour that we love. Happy, indeed, are 
they that find some ten times pure and consecrated fra- 
grance, like the pine, which entering in is master of their 
moods, and yet through linking thoughts has all its power, 
uplifting, full of sweetness and blessed peace. So came to 
Rolf his medicine tree. 

The balsam fir was his tree of hallowed memory. Its 
odour never failed, and he slept that night with its in- 
fluence all about him. 

Starting in the morning was no easy matter. There was 
so much to be adjusted that first day. Packs divided in 
two, new combinations to trim the canoe, or to raise such 
and such a package above a possible leak. The heavy 
things, like axes and pans, had to be fastened to the canoe 
or to packages that would float in case of an upset. The 
canoe itself had to be gummed in one or two places; but 
they got away after three hours, and began the voyage 
down the Schroon. 

This was Rolf's first water journey. He had indeed 
essayed the canoe on the Pipestave Pond, but that was a 
mere ferry. This was real travel. He marvelled at the 
sensitiveness of the frail craft; the delicacy of its balance; 
its quick response to the paddle; the way it seemed to 

83 







Rolf in the Woods 

shrink from the rocks; and the unpleasantly suggestive 
bend-up of the ribs when the bottom grounded upon a log. 
It was a new world for him. Quonab taught him never 
to enter the canoe except when she was afloat; never to 
rise in her or move along without hold of the gunwale; 
never to make a sudden move; and he also learned that it 
was easier to paddle when there were six feet of water 
underneath than when only six inches. 

In an hour they had covered the five miles that brought 
them to the Hudson, and here the real labour began, 
paddling up stream. Before long they came to a shallow 
stretch with barely enough water to float the canoe. 
Here they jumped out and waded in the stream, occasion- 
ally lifting a stone to one side, till they reached the upper 
stretch of deep water and again went merrily paddling. 
Soon they came to an impassable rapid, and Rolf had his 
first taste of a real carry or portage. Quonab's eye was 
watching the bank as soon as the fierce waters appeared; 
for the first question was, where shall we land? and the 
next, how far do we carry? There are no rapids on impor- 
tant rivers in temperate America that have not been 
portaged more or less for ages. No canoe man portages 
without considering most carefully when, where, and how 
to land. His selection of the place, then, is the result of 
careful study. He cannot help leaving some mark at the 
place, slight though it be, and the next man looks for that 
mark to save himself time and trouble. 

"Ugh" was the only sound that Rolf heard from his 
companion, and the canoe headed for a flat rock in the pool 
below the rapids. After landing, they found traces of an 

84 



Canoeing on the Upper Hudson 

old camp fire. It was near noon now, so Rolf prepared 
the meal while Quonab took a light pack and went on to 
learn the trail. It was not well marked; had not been 
used for a year or two, evidently, but there are certain 
rules that guide one. The trail keeps near the water, 
unless there is some great natural barrier, and it is usually 
the easiest way in sight. Quonab kept one eye on the 
river, for navigable water was the main thing, and in 
about one hundred yards he was again on the stream's 
edge, at a good landing above the rapid. 

After the meal was finished and the Indian had smoked, 
they set to work. In a few loads each, the stuff was 
portaged across, and the canoe was carried over and 
moored to the bank. 

The cargo replaced, they went on again, but in half 
an hour after passing more shoal water, saW another rapid, 
not steep, but too shallow to float the canoe, even with 
both men wading. Here Quonab made what the French- 
men call a demi-charge. He carried half the stuff to the 
bank; then, wading, one at each end, they hauled the canoe 
up the portage and reloaded her above. Another strip 
of good going was succeeded by a long stretch of very swift 
water that was two or three feet deep and between shores 
that were densely grown with alders. The Indian landed, 
cut two light, strong poles, and now, one at the bow, the 
other at the stern, they worked their way foot by foot 
up the fierce current until safely on the upper level. 

Yet one more style of canoe propulsion was forced on 
them. They came to a long stretch of smooth, deep, very 
swift water, ahnost a rapid — one of the kind that is 

85 



^j^ 



I 



Rolf in the Woods 

a joy when you are coming down stream. It differed 
from the last in having shores that were not alder-hidden, 
but open gravel banks. Now did Quonab take a long, 
strong line from his war sack. One end he fastened, not 
to the bow, but to the forward part of the canoe, the other 
to a buckskin band which he put across his breast. Then, 
with Rolf in the stern to steer and the Indian hauling on 
the bank, the canoe was safely " tracked '^ up the "strong 
waters." 

Thus they fought their way up the hard river, day after 
day, making sometimes only five miles after twelve hours' 
^ toilsome travel. Rapids, shoals, portages, strong waters, 
abounded, and before they had covered the fifty miles to 
the forks of Jesup's River, they knew right well why the 
region was so little entered. 

It made a hardened canoe man of Rolf, and when, on 
the evening of the fifth day, they saw a huge eagle's nest 
in a dead pine tree that stood on the edge of a long swamp, 
both felt they had reached their own country, and were 
glad. 



%, 



\ • 



86 



XVIII 
Animal Life Along the River 

IT MUST not be supposed that, because it has not 
been duly mentioned, they saw no wild life 
along the river. The silent canoe man has the 
best of opportunities. There were plenty of deer tracks 
about the first camp, and that morning, as they turned 
up the Hudson, Rolf saw his first deer. They had rounded 
a point in rather swift water when Quonab gave two 
taps on the gunwale, the usual sign, ''Look out,'^ and 
pointed to the shore. There, fifty yards away on the 
bank, gazing at them, was a deer. Stock still he stood, 
like a red statue, for he was yet in the red coat. With 
three or four strong strokes, Quonab gave a long and 
mighty forward spurt; then reached for his gun. But 
the deer's white flag went up. It turned and bounded 
away, the white flag the last thing to disappear. Rolf sat 
spellbound. It was so sudden; so easy; it soon melted 
into the woods again. He trembled after it was gone. 

Many a time in the evening they saw muskrats in the 
eddies, and once they glimpsed a black, shiny something 
like a monstrous leech rolling up and down as it travelled 
in the stream. Quonab whispered, ''Otter,'' and made 
ready his gun, but it dived and showed itself no more. 

87 




Rolf in the Woods 

At one of the camps they were awakened by an extra- 
ordinary tattoo in the middle of the night — a harsh 
rattle close by their heads; and they got up to find that 
a porcupine was rattling his teeth on the frying-pan in 
an effort to increase the amount of salt that he could taste 
on it. Skookum, tied to a tree, was vainly protesting 
against the intrusion and volunteered to make a public 
^4^^ example of the invader. The campers did not finally get 
xi^'^^'V'^ rid of the spiny one till all their kitchen stuff was hung 
^' beyond his reach. 

Once they heard the sharp, short bark of a fox, and 
twice or thrice the soft, sweet, moaning call of the gray 
wolf out to hunt. Wild fowl abounded, and their diet^ 
was varied by the ducks that one or other of the huntersl 
secured at nearly every camp. I 

On the second day they saw three deer, and on the) 
third morning Quonab loaded his gun with buckshot, to|j 
be ready, then sallied forth at dawn. Rolf was following,] 
but the Indian shook his head, then said: "Don't make 
fire for half an hour." 

In twenty minutes Rolf heard the gun, then later the! 
Indian returned with a haunch of venison, and when theyi 
left that camp they stopped a mile up the river to add the 
rest of the venison to their cargo. Seven other deer were 
seen, but no more killed; yet Rolf was burning to try his! 
hand as a hunter. Many other opportunities he had, andj 
improved some of them. On one wood portage he, or 
rather Skookum, put up a number of ruffed grouse. These; 
perched in the trees above their heads and the travellers' 
stopped. While the dog held their attention Rolf with, 

S8 



Animal Life Along the River 

blunt arrows knocked over five that proved most accepta- 
ble as food. But his thoughts were now on deer, and 
his ambition was tb go out alone and return with a load 
of venison. 

Another and more thrilling experience followed quickly. 
Rounding a bend in the early dawn they sighted a black 
bear and two cubs rambling along the gravelly bank and 
stopping now and then to eat something that turned out 
to be crayfish. 

Quonab had not seen a bear since childhood, when 
he and his father hunted along the hardwood ridges 
back of Myanos, and now he was excited. He stopped 
paddling, warned Rolf to do the same, and let the canoe 
drift backward until out of sight; then made for the land. 
Quickly tying up the canoe he took his gun and Rolf his 
hunting arrows^ and, holding Skookum in a leash, they 
dashed into the woods. Then, keeping out of sight, 
they ran as fast and as silently as possible in the direction 
of the bears. Of course, the wind was toward the hunters, 
or they never could have got so near. Now they were 
opposite the family group and needed only a chance for 
a fair shot. Sneaking forward with the utmost caution, 
they were surely within twenty-five yards, but still the 
bushes screened the crab-eaters. As the hunters sneaked, 
the old bear stopped and sniffed suspiciously; the wind 
changed; she got an unmistakable whiff; then gave a 
loud warning ^'Koff! Koff! Koff! Koff!" and ran as fast 
as she could. The hunters knowing they were discovered 
rushed out, yelling as loudly as possible, in hopes of making 
the bears tree. The old bear ran like a horse with Skookum 

89 



Rolf in the Woods 

yapping bravely in her rear. The young ones, left be- 
hind, lost sight of her, and, utterly bewildered by the noise, 
made for a tree conveniently near and scrambled up into 
the branches. *'Now," Rolf thought, judging by certain 
tales he had heard, ''that old bear will come back and 
there will be a fight." 

"Is she coming back?" he asked nervously. 

The Indian laughed. ''No, she is running yet. Black 
bear always a coward; they never fight when they can 
run away." 

The little ones up the tree were, of course, at the mercy 
of the hunters, and in this case it was not a broken straw 
they depended on, but an ample salvation. "We don't 
need the meat and can't carry it with us ; let's leave them," 
said Rolf, but added, "Will they find their mother?" 

"Yes, bime-by; they come down and squall all over 
woods. She will hang round half a mile away and by 
night all will be together." 

Their first bear hunt was over. Not a shot fired, 
not a bear wounded, not a mile travelled, and not an hour 
lost. And yet it seemed much more full of interesting 
thrills than did any one of the many stirring bear hunts 
that Rolf and Quonab- shared together in the days that 
were to come. 



90 



XIX 
The Footprint on the Shore 

JESUP'S RIVER was a tranquil stream that came 
from a region of swamps, and would have been 
easy canoeing but for the fallen trees. Some of 
these had been cut years ago, showing that the old trapper 
had used this route. Once they were unpleasantly sur- 
prised by seeing a fresh chopping on the bank, but their 
mourning was changed into joy when they found it was 
beaver-work. 

Ten miles they made that day. In the evening they 
camped on the shore of Jesup's Lake, proud and happy 
in the belief that they were the rightful owners of it all. 
That night they heard again and again the howling of 
woJves, but it seemed on the far side of the lake. In the 
morning they went out on foot to explore, and at once had 
the joy of seeing five deer, while tracks showed on every 
side. It was evidently a paradise for deer, and there were 
in less degree the tracks of other animals — mink in fair 
abundance, one or two otters, a mountain lion, and a 
cow moose with her calf. It was thrilling to see such 
a feast of possibiKties. The hunters were led on and on, 
revelling in the prospect of many joys before them, when 
all at once they came on something that turned their joy 




vss i,'*' ;-!*<!> 



Rolf in the Woods 

to grief — the track of a man; the fresh imprint of a 
cowhide boot. It was maddening. At first blush, it 
meant some other trapper ahead of them with a prior 
claim to the valley; a claim that the unwritten law would 
allow. They followed it a mile. It went striding along 
the shore at a great pace, sometimes running, and keeping 
down the west shore. Then they found a place where he 
had sat down and broken a lot of clam shells, and again had 
hastened on. But there was no mark of gunstock or other 
weapon where he sat; and why was he wearing boots? 
The hunters rarely did. 

For two miles the Indian followed with Rolf, and some- 
times found that the hated stranger had been running 
hard. Then they turned back, terribly disappointed. At 
first it seemed a crushing blow. They had three courses 
open to them — to seek a location farther north, to assume 
that one side of the lake was theirs, or to find out exactly 
who and what the stranger was. They decided on the last. 
The canoe was launched and loaded, and they set out to 
look for what they hoped they would not find, a trapper's 
shanty on the lake. 

After skirting the shore for four or iivt miles and dis- 
turbing one or two deer, as well as hosts of ducks, the voy- 
agers landed and there still they found that fateful boot- 
mark steadily tramping southward. By noon they had 
reached the south end of the west inlet that leads to an- 
other lake, and again an examination of the shore showed 
the footmarks, here leaving the lake and going southerly. 
Now the travellers retired to the main lake and by noon 
had reached the south end. At no point had they seen any 

92 



The Footprint on the Shore 

sign of a cabin, though both sides of the lake were in plain 
view all day. The travelling stranger was a mystery, but 
he did not live here and there was no good reason why they 
should not settle. 

Where? The country seemed equally good at all points, 
but it is usually best to camp on an outlet. Then when a 
storm comes up, the big waves do not threaten your canoe, 
or compel you to stay on land. It is a favourite crossing 
for animals avoiding the lake, and other trappers coming 
in are sure to see your cabin before they enter. 

Which side of the outlet? Quonab settled that — the 
west. He wanted to see the sun rise, and, not far back 
from the water, was a hill with a jutting, rocky pinnacle. 
He pointed to this and uttered the one word, ''Idaho." 
Here, then, on the west side, where the lake enters the river, 
they began to clear the ground for their home. 




93 



XX 

The Trappers' Cabin 

It's a smart fellow that knows what he canH do. — Sayings of Si Sylvanne. 

I SUPPOSE every trapper that ever lived, on first 
building a cabin, said, ''Oh, any little thing will 
do, so long as it has a roof and is big enough to 
lie down in." And every trapper has realized before 
spring that he made a sad mistake in not having it big 
enough to live in and store goods in. Quonab and Rolf 
were new at the business, and made the usual mistake. 
They planned their cabin far too small; lo x 12 ft., instead 
of 12 X 20 ft. they made it, and 6-ft. walls, instead of 8-ft.. 
walls. Both were expert axemen. Spruce was plentiful 
and the cabin rose quickly. In one day the walls were up. 
An important thing was the roof. What should it be? 
Overlapping basswood troughs, spht shingles, also called 
shakes, or clay? By far the easiest. to make, the warmest in 
winter and coolest in summer, is the clay roof. It has three 
disadvantages: It leaks in long-continued wet weather; it 
drops down dust and dirt in dry weather ; and is so heavy 
that it usually ends by crushing in the log rafters and 
beams, unless they are further supported on posts, which 
are much in the way. But its advantages were so obvious 
that the builders did not hesitate. A clay roof it was to be. 

94 



The Trappers^ Cabin 

When the walls were five feet high, the doorway and 
window were cut through the logs, but leaving in each case 
one half of the log at the bottom of the needed opening. 
The top log was now placed, then rolled over bottom up, 
while half of its thickness was cut away to fit over the door: 
a similar cut out was made over the window. Two flat 
pieces of spruce were prepared for door jambs and two 
shorter ones for window jambs. Auger holes were put 
through, so as to allow an oak pin to be driven through 
the jamb into each log, and' the doorway and window 
opening were done. 

In one corner they planned a small fireplace, built of 
clay and stone. Not stone from the lake, as Rolf would 

have had it, but from the hillside; and why? Quonab .? 

said that the lake stone was of the water spirits, and would 
not live near fire, but would burst open; while the hill- 
side stone was of the sun and fire spirit, and in the fire 
would add its heat. ./- v • 

The facts are that lake stone explodes when greatly — *T"^^^^»-H 
heated and hill stone does not; and since no one has been — ^ J' ^— ^ 
able to improve upon Quonab 's explanation, it must stand 
for the present. 

The plan of the fireplace was simple. Rolf had been 
present at the building of several, and the main point was' 
to have the chimney large enough, and the narrowest 
point just above the fire. 

The eaves logs, end logs, and ridge logs were soon in 
place; then came the cutting of small poles, spruce and 
tamarack, long enough to reach from ridge to eaves, and 
in sufficient number to completely cover the roof. A raiil| 

9S 




Rolf in the Woods 

sedge meadow near by afforded plenty of coarse grass 
with which the poles were covered deeply; and lastly clay 
dug out with a couple of hand-made, axe-hewn wooden 
spades was thrown evenly on the grass to a depth of six 
inches; this, when trampled fiat, made a roof that served 
them well. 

The chinks of the logs when large were filled with split 
pieces of wood; when small they were plugged with moss. 
A door was made of hewn planks, and hinged very simply 
on two pins; one made by letting the plank project as a 
point, the other by nailing on a pin after the door was 
placed; both pins fitting, of course, into inch auger holes. 

A floor was not needed, but bed bunks were, and in 
making these they began already to realize that the cabin 
was too small. But now after a week's work it was done. 
It had a sweet fragrance of wood and moss, and the 
pleasure it gave to Rolf at least was something he never 
again could expect to find in equal measure about any 
other dwelling he might make. 

Quonab laid the fire carefully, then lighted his pipe, sang 
a little crooning song about the "home spirits," which we 
call *' household gods," walked around the shanty, offer- 
ing the pipestem to each of the four winds in turn, then 
entering lighted the fire from his pipe, threw some tobacco 
and deer hair on the blaze, and the house-warming was 
ended. 

Nevertheless, they continued to sleep in the tent they 
had used all along, for Quonab loved not the indoors, and 
Rolf was growing daily more of his mind. v 



96 



XXI 

Rolf's First Deer 

ANXIOUS to lose no fine day they had worked 
steadily on the shanty, not even going after the 
deer that were seen occasionally over the lake, 
so that now they were out of fresh meat, and Rolf saw a 
chance he long had looked for. ^'Quonab, I want to go 
out alone and get a deer, and I want your gun. " 

"Ugh! you shall go. To-night is good." 

''To-night" meant evening, so Rolf set out alone as 
soon as the sun was low, for during the heat of the day the 
deer are commonly lying in some thicket. In general, 
he knew enough to travel up wind, and to go as silently as 
possible. The southwest wind was blowing softly, and so 
he quickened his steps southwesterly which meant along 
the lake. Tracks and signs abounded; it was impossible 
to follow any one trail. His plan was to keep on silently, 
trusting to luck, nor did he have long to wait. Across a 
little opening of the woods to the west he saw a movement 
in the bushes, but it ceased, and he was in doubt whether 
the creature, presumably a deer, was standing there or 
had gone on. "Never quit till you are sure," was one of 
Quonab's wise adages. Rolf was bound to know what it 
was that had moved. So he stood still and waited. A 

97 



Rolf in the Woods 

minute passed; another; many; a long time; and still he 
waited, but got no further sign of life from the bush. 
Then he began to think he was mistaken; yet it was good 
huntercraf t to find out what that was. He tried the wind 
several times, first by wetting his finger, which test said 
*' southwest''; second, by tossing up some handfuls of dried 
grass, which said ''yes, southwest, but veering south- 
erly in this glade." So he knew he might crawl silently 
to the north side of that bush. He looked to the priming 
of his gun and began a slow and stealthy stalk, selecting 
such openings as might be passed without effort or move- 
ment of bushes or likelihood of sound. He worked his 
way step by step; each time his foot was lifted he set it 
down again only after trying the footing. At each step 
he paused to look and listen. It was only one hundred 
yards to the interesting spot, but Rolf was fifteen minutes 
in covering the distance, and more than once, he got a 
great start as a chicadee flew out or a woodpecker 
tapped. His heart beat louder and louder, so it 
seemed everything near must hear; but he kept on his 
careful stalk, and at last had reached the thicket 
that had given him such thrills and hopes. Here he 
stood and watched for a full minute. Again he tried the 
wind, and proceeded to circle slowly to the west of the 
place. 

After a long, tense crawl of twenty yards he came on 
the track and sign of a big buck, perfectly fresh, and again 
his heart worked harder; it seemed to be pumping his 
neck full of blood, so he was choking. He judged it best 
to follow this hot trail for a time, and holding his gun ready 

98 



Rolf's First Deer 

cocked he stepped softly onward. A bluejay cried out, 
*' jay, jay!" with startling loudness, and seemingly enjoyed 
his pent-up excitement. A few steps forward at slow, care- 
ful stalk, and then behind him he heard a loud whistling 
hiss. Instantly turning he found himself face to face with 
a great, splendid buck in the short blue coat. There not 
thirty yards away he stood, the creature he had been 
stalking so long, in plain view now, broadside on. They 
gazed each at the other, perfectly still for a few seconds, 
then Rolf without undue movement brought the gun to 
bear, and still the buck stood gazing. The gun was up, but 
oh, how disgustingly it wabbled and shook! and the 
steadier Rolf tried to hold it, the more it trembled, until 
from that wretched gun the palsy spread all over his body; 
his breath came tremulously, his legs and arms were shak- 
ing, and at last, as the deer moved its head to get a better 
view and raised its tail, the lad, making an effort at self- 
control, pulled the trigger. Bang! and the buck went 
lightly bounding out of sight. 

Poor Rolf; how disgusted he felt; positively sick with 
self-contempt. Thirty yards, standing, broadside on, 
full daylight, a big buck, a clean miss. Yes, there was 
the bullet hole in a tree, five feet above the deer's head. 
*'I'm no good; I'll never be a hunter," he groaned, then 
turned and slowly tramped back to camp. Quonab 
looked inquiringly, for, of course, he heard the shot. He 
saw a glum and sorry-looking youth, who in response to 
his inquiring look gave merely a head-shake, and hung 
up the gun with a vicious bang. 

Quonab took down the gun, wiped it out, reloaded it, 

99 




Rolf in the Woods 

then turning to the boy said: "Nibowaka, you feel pretty 
sick. Ugh! You know why? You got a good chance, 
but you got buck fever. It is always so, every one the 
first time. You go again to-morrow and you get your 
deer." 

Rolf made no reply. So Quonab ventured, ^'You want 
mg to go?" That settled it for Rolf; his pride was touched. 

"No; I'll go again in the morning." 

In the dew time he was away once more on the hunting- 
trail. There was no wind, but the southwest was the 
likeHest to spring up. So he went nearly over his last 
night's track. He found it much easier to go silently 
now when all the world was dew wet, and travelled quickly. 
Past the fateful glade he went, noted again the tree torn 
several feet too high up, and on. Then the cry of a bluejay 
rang out; this is often a notification of deer at hand. It 
always is warning of something doing, and no wise hunter 
ignores it. 

Rolf stood for a moment listening and peering. He 
thought he heard a scraping sound; then again the blue- 
jay, but the former ceased and the jay-note died in the 
distance. He crept cautiously on again for a few minutes; 
another opening appeared. He studied this from a hiding 
place; then far across he saw a little flash near the ground. 
His heart gave a jump; he studied the place, saw again the 
flash and then made out the head of a deer, a doe that was 
lying in the long grass. The flash was made by its ear 
shaking off a fly. Rolf looked to his priming, braced him- 
self, got fully ready, then gave a short, sharp whistle; 
instantly the doe rose to her feet; then another appeared, 

lOO 



Rolf's First Deer 

a small one; then a young buck, all stood gazing his way. 
Up went the gun, but again its muzzle began to wabble. 
Rolf lowered it, said grimly and savagely to himself, 
*^/ will not shake this time.'' The deer stretched them- 
selves and began slowly walking toward the lake. All 
had disappeared but the buck. Rolf gave another 
whistle that turned the antler-bearer to a statue. Con- 
trolling himself with a strong ^'I will,^^ he raised the 
gun, held it steadily, and fired. The buck gave a gather- 
ing spasm, a bound, and disappeared. Rolf felt sick 
again with disgust, but he reloaded, then hastily went 
forward. 

There was the deep imprint showing where the buck 
had bounded at the shot, but no blood. He followed, 
and a dozen feet away found the next hoof marks and on 
them a bright-red stain; on and another splash; and more 
and shortening bounds, till one hundred yards away — 
yes, there it lay; the round, gray form, quite dead, shot 
through the heart. 

Rolf gave a long, rolling war cry and got an answer 
from a point that was startlingly near, and Quonab 
stepped from behind a tree. 

"I got him," shouted Rolf. 

The Indian smiled. "I knew you would, so I followed; 
last night I knew you must have your shakes, so let you 
go it alone." 

Very carefully that deer was skinned, and Rolf learned 
the reason for many little modes of procedure. 

After the hide was removed from the body (not the 
head or legs), Quonab carefully cut out the broad sheath 

lOI 




/ 'J 



Rolf in the Woods 

of tendon that cover the muscles, beginning at the hip 
bones on the back and extending up to the shoulders; this 

^1 is the sewing sinew. Then he cut out the two long fillets 

\\ j/* of meat that lie on each side of the spine outside (the 

/ i ^ (T^- ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ smaller ones inside (the tenderloin). 
I L^VjT^^^ These, with the four quarters, the heart, and the kidneys, 
were put into the hide. The entrails, head, neck, legs, 
feet, he left for the foxes, but the hip bone or sacrum he 
hung in a tree with three Httle red yarns from them, so 
that the Great Spirit would be pleased and send good 
hunting. Then addressing the head he said: "Little 
brother, forgive us. We are sorry to kill you. Behold ! 
we give you the honour of red streamers." Then bearing 
the rest they tramped back to camp. 

The meat wrapped in sacks to keep off the flies was 
hung in the shade, but the hide he buried in the warm mud 

/,^ of a swamp hole, and three days later, when the hair began 

to slip, he scraped it clean. A broad ash wood hoop he 
had made ready and when the green rawhide was strained 
on it again the Indian had an Indian drum. 

It was not truly dry for two or three days and as it 
tightened on its frame it gave forth little sounds of click 
and shrinkage that told of the strain the tensioned rawhide 
made. Quonab tried it that night as he sat by the fire 
softly singing: 

"Ho da ho— he da he." 

But the next day before sunrise he climbed the hill and 
sitting on the sun-up rock he hailed the Day God with the 

102 






Rolf's First Deer 

invocation, as he had not sung it since the day they left 
the great rock above the Asamuk, and followed with the 
song: 

"Father, we thank thee; 

We have found the good hunting. 

There is meat in the wigwam." 



105 



XXII 

The Line of Traps 

NOW that they had the cabin for winter, and food for 
the present, they must set about the serious 
business of trapping and lay a Kne of deadfalls 
for use in the coming cold weather. They were a little 
ahead of time, but it was very desirable to get their lines 
blazed through the woods in all proposed directions in 
case of any other trapper coming in. Most fur-bearing 
animals are to be found along the little valleys of the 
stream: beaver, otter, mink, muskrat, coon, are examples. 
Those that do not actually live by the water seek these 
places because of their sheltered character and because 
their prey lives there; of this class are the lynx, fox, fisher, 
and marten that feed on rabbits and mice. Therefore a 
line of traps is usually along some valley and over the 
divide and down some other valley back to the point of 
beginning. 

So, late in September, Rolf and Quonab, with their 
bedding, a pot, food for four days, and two axes, alter- 
nately followed and led by Skookum, set out along a stream 
that entered the lake near their cabin. A quarter mile up 
they built their first deadfall for martens. It took them 

104 



The Line of Traps 

one hour and was left unset. The place was under a huge 
tree on a neck of land around which the stream made a 
loop. This tree they blazed on three sides. Two hundred 
yards up another good spot was found and a deadfall 
made. At one place across a neck of land was a narrow 
trail evidently worn by otters. "Good place for steel 
trap, bime-by," was Quonab's remark 

From time to time they disturbed deer, and in a muddy 
place where a deer path crossed the creek, they found, 
among the numerous small hoof prints, the track of 
wolves, bears, and a mountain Hon, or panther. At these 
little Skookum sniffed fearsomely, and showed by his 
bristly mane that he was at least much impressed. 

After five hours' travel and work they came to another 
stream joining on, and near the angle of the two httle 
valleys they found a small tree that was chewed and 
scratched in a remarkable manner for three to six feet up. 

*'Bear tree," said Quonab, and by degrees Rolf got the 
facts about it. 

The bears, and indeed most animals, have a way of 
marking the range that they consider their own. Usually 
this is done by leaving their personal odour at various 
points, covering the country claimed, but in some cases 
visible marks are added. Thus the beaver leaves a little 
dab of mud, the wolf scratches with his hind feet, and the 
bear tears the signal tree with tooth and claw. Since this 
is done from time to time, when the bear happens to be 
near the tree, it is kept fresh as long as the region is claimed. 
But it is especially done in midsummer when the bears 
are pairing, and helps them to find suitable companions, 

105 




Rolf in the Woods 

for all are then roaming the woods seeking mates; all call 
and leave their mark on the sign post, so the next bear, 
thanks to his exquisite nose, can tell at once the sex of the 
bear that called last and by its track tell which way it 
travelled afterward. 

In this case it was a bear's register, but before long 
Quonab showed Rolf a place where two long logs joined 
at an angle by a tree that was rubbed and smelly, and 
showed a few marten hairs, indicating that this was the 
sign post of a marten and a good place to make a deadfall. 

Yet a third was found in an open, grassy glade, a large, 
white stone on which were pellets left by foxes. The 
Indian explained: 

** Every fox that travels near will come and smell the 
stone to see who of his kind is around, so this is a good 
place for a fox- trap; a steel trap, of course, for no fox will 
go into a deadfall." 

And slowly Rolf learned that these habits are seen 
in some measure in all animals; yes, down to the mice and 
shrews. We see little of it because our senses are blunt 
and our attention untrained; but the naturalist and the 
hunter always know where to look for the four-footed 
inhabitants and by them can tell whether or not the land 
is possessed by such and such a furtive tribe. 



io6 



XXIII 
The Beaver Pond 

AT THE noon halt they were about ten miles from 
home and had made fifteen deadfalls for marten, 
for practice was greatly reducing the time needed 
for each. 

In the afternoon they went on, but the creek had be- 
come a mere rill and they were now high up in a more 
level stretch of country that was more or less swampy. 
As they followed the main course of the dwindling stream, 
looking ever for signs of fur-bearers, they crossed and 
recrossed the water. At length Quonab stopped, stared, 
and pointed at the rill, no longer clear but clouded with 
mud. His eyes shone as he jerked his head up stream 
and uttered the magic word, ^^ Beaver. ^^ 

They tramped westerly for a hundred yards through 
a dense swamp of alders, and came at last to an irregular 
pond that spread out among the willow bushes and was 
lost in the swampy thickets. Following the stream they 
soon came to a beaver dam, a long, curving bank of willow 
branches and mud, tumbling through the top of which 
were a dozen tiny streams that reunited their waters 
below to form the rivulet they had been following. 

Red-winged blackbirds were sailing in flocks about 

107 



Rolf in the Woods 




the pond; a number of ducks were to be seen, and on a 
dead tree, killed by the backed up water, a great blue 
heron stood. Many smaller creatures moved or flitted 
in the lively scene, while far out near the middle rose a 
dome-like pile of sticks, a beaver lodge, and farther three 
more were discovered. No beaver were seen, but the 
fresh cut sticks, the floating branches peeled of all the bark, 
and the long, strong dam in good repair were enough to 
tell a practised eye that here was a large colony of beavers 
in undisturbed possession. 

In those days beaver was one of the most valued furs. 
The creature is very easy to trap; so the discovery of 
the pond was like the finding of a bag of gold. They 
skirted its uncertain edges and Quonab pointed out 
the many landing places of the beaver; little docks they 
seemed, built up with mud and stones with deep water 
plunge holes alongside. Here and there on the shore 
was a dome-shaped ant's nest with a pathway to it from 
the pond, showing, as the Indian said, that here the beaver 
came on sunny days to lie on the hill and let the swarming 
ants come forth and pick the vermin from their fur. 
At one high point projecting into the still water they found 
a little mud pie with a very strong smell; this, the Indian 
said, was a "castor cache y"*^ the sign that, among beavers, 
answers the same purpose as the bear tree among bears. 

Although the pond seemed small they had to tramp 
a quarter of a mile before reaching the upper end and 
here they found another dam, with its pond. This was 
at a slightly higher level and contained a single lodge; 
after this they found others, a dozen ponds in a dozen 

io8 



The Beaver Pond 

successive rises, the first or largest and the second only- 
having lodges, but all were evidently part of the thriving 
colony, for fresh cut trees were seen on every side. '^Ugh, 
good; we get maybe fifty beaver," said the Indian, and 
they knew they had reached the Promised Land. 

Rolf would gladly have spent the rest of the day ex- 
ploring the pond and trying for a beaver, when the even- 
tide should call them to come forth, but Quonab said, 
"Only twenty deadfall; we should have one hundred and 
fifty." So making for a fine sugar bush on the dry ground 
west of the ponds they blazed a big tree, left a deadfall 
there, and sought the easiest way over the rough hills 
that lay to the east, in hopes of reaching the next stream 
leading down to their lake. 



109 



XXIV 
The Porcupine 

SKOOKUM was a partly trained little dog; he 
would stay in camp when told, if it suited him; 
and would not hesitate to follow or lead his 
master, when he felt that human wisdom was inferior 
to the ripe product of canine experience covering more 
than thirteen moons of recollection. But he was now 
Hving a life in which his previous experience must 
often fail him as a guide. A faint rustling on the leafy 
ground had sent him ahead at a run, and his sharp, angry 
bark showed that some hostile creature of the woods had 
been discovered. Again and again the angry yelping 
was changed into a sort of yowl, half anger, half distress. 
The hunters hurried forward to find the little fool charging 
again and again a huge porcupine that was crouched with 
its head under a log, its hindquarters exposed but bristhng 
with spines; and its tail lashing about, left a new array 
of quills in the dog's mouth and face each time he charged. 
Skookum was a plucky fighter, but plainly he was nearly 
sick of it. The pain of the quills would, of course, increase 
every minute and with each movement. Quonab took 
a stout stick and threw the porcupine out of its retreat, 
(Rolf supposed to kill it when the head was exposed,) 

no 



The Porcupine 

but the spiny one, finding a new and stronger enemy, 
wasted no time in galloping at its slow lumbering pace 
to the nearest small spruce tree and up that it scrambled 
to a safe place in the high branches. 

Now the hunters called the dog. He was a sorry-looking 
object, pawing at his muzzle, first with one foot, then 
another, trying to unswallow the quills in his tongue, blink- 
ing hard, uttering little painful grunts and whines as he 
rubbed his head upon the ground or on his forelegs. Rolf 
held him while Quonab, with a sharp jerk, brought out quill 
after quill. Thirty or forty of the poisonous little daggers 
were plucked from his trembling legs, head, face, and 
nostrils, but the dreadful ones were those in his lips and 
tongue. Already they were deeply sunk in the soft, 
quivering flesh. One by one those in the lips were with- 
drawn by the strong fingers of the red man, and Skookum 
whimpered a little, but he shrieked outright when those 
in the tongue were removed. Rolf had hard work to hold iyj) 
him, and any one not knowing the case might have thought Jlvv\j\ 
that the two men were deliberately holding the dog to ^^^^VM^ 
administer the most cruel torture. 

But none of the quills had sunk very deep. All were got 
out at last and the little dog set free. 

Now Rolf thought of vengeance on the quill-pig snugly 
sitting in the tree near by. 

Ammunition was too precious to waste, but Rolf was 
getting ready to climb when Quonab said: ''No, no; you 
must not. Once I saw white man climb after the Kahk; it 
waited till he was near, then backed down, lashing its tail. 
He put up his arm to save his face. It speared his arm in 

m 



Rolf in the Woods 

fifty places and he could not save his face, so he tried to get 
down, but the Kahk came faster, lashing him; then he lost 
his hold and dropped. His leg was broken and his arm 
was swelled up for half a year. They are very poisonous. 
He nearly died." 

"Well, I can at least chop him down," and Rolf took the 
axe. 

"Wah!" Quonab said, ''no; my father said you must not 
kill the Kahk, except you make sacrifice and use his quills 
for household work. It is bad medicine to kill the Kahk." 

So the spiny one was left alone in the place he had so ably 
fought for. But Skookum, what of him? He was set free 
at last. To be wiser? Alas, no! before one hour he met 
with another porcupine and remembering only his hate of 
the creature repeated the same sad mistake, and again had 
to have the painful help, without which he must certainly 
have died. Before night, however, he began to feel his 
real punishment and next morning no one would have 
known the pudding-headed thing that sadly followed the 
hunters, for the bright little dog that a day before had run 
so joyously through the woods. It was many a long day 
before he fully recovered and at one time his life was in the 
balance; and yet to the last of his days he never fully real- 
ized the folly of his insensate attacks on the creature that 
fights with its tail. 

'' It is ever so," said the Indian. "The lynx, the panther, 
the wolf, the fox, the eagle, all that attack the Kahk must 
die. Once my father saw a bear that was killed by the 
quills. He had tried to bite the Kahk; it filled his mouth 
with quills that he could not spit out. They sunk deeper 

112 



The Porcupine 

and his jaws swelled so he could not open or shut his mouth 
to eat; then he starved. My people found him near a fish 
pond below a rapid. There were many fish. The bear 
could kill them with his paw but not eat, so with his mouth 
wide open and plenty about him he died of starvation in 
that pool. 

^' There is but one creature that can kill the Kahk that 
is the Ojeeg the big fisher weasel. He is a devil. He 
makes very strong medicine; the Kahk cannot harm him. 
He turns it on its back and tears open its smooth belly. 
It is ever so. We not know, but my father said, that it is 
because when in the flood Nana Bojou was floating on the 
log with Kahk and Ojeeg, Kahk was insolent and wanted 
the highest place, but Ojeeg was respectful to Nana Bojou, 
he bit the Kahk to teach him a lesson and got lashed with 
the tail of many stings. But the Manito drew ®ut the 
quills and said: 'It shall be evsr thus; the Ojeeg shall 
conquer the Kahk and the quills of Kahk shall never do 
Ojeeg any harm.' " 




"3 




I 

I 

V 



XXV 
The Otter Slide 

IT WAS late now and the hunters camped in the high, 
cool woods. Skookum whined in his sleep so loudly 
as to waken them once or twice. Near dawn they 
heard the howling of wolves and the curiously similar hoot- 
ing of a horned owl. There is, indeed, almost no difference 
between the short opening howl of a she-wolf and the long 
hoot of the owl. As he listened, half awake, Rolf heard a 
whirr of wings which stopped overhead, then a familiar 
chuckle. He sat up and saw Skookum sadly lift his mis- 
shapen head to gaze at a row of black-breasted grouse or 
partridge on a branch above, but the poor doggie was feel- 
ing too sick to take any active interest. They were not the 
ruffed grouse, but a kindred kind, new to Rolf. As he 
gazed at the perchers, he saw Quonab rise gently, go to the 
nearest willow and cut a long slender rod at least twelve 
feet long; on the top of this he made a short noose of cord. 
Then he went cautiously under the watching grouse, the 
spruce partridges, and reaching up slipped the noose over 
the neck of the first one; a sharp jerk then tightened the 
noose, and brought the grouse tumbling out of the tree, 
while its companions merely clucked their puzzlement, but 
made no effort to escape. 

114 



The Otter Slide 

A short, sharp blow put the captive out of pain. The rod 
was reached again and a second, the lowest always, was 
jerked down, and the trick repeated till three grouse were 
secured. Then only did it dawn on the others that they 
were in a most perilous neighbourhood, so they took flight. 

Rolf sat up in amazement. Quonab dropped the 
three birds by the fire and set about preparing breakfast. 

"These are fool hens," he explained. *' You can mostly 
get them this way; sure, if you have a dog to help, but the 
ruffed grouse is no such fool." 

Rolf dressed the birds and as usual threw the entrails to 
Skookum. Poor little dog! he was, indeed, a sorry sight. 
He looked sadly out of his bulging eyes, feebly moved his 
swollen jaws, but did not touch the food he once would 
have pounced on. He did not eat because he could not 
open his mouth. 

At camp the trappers made a log trap and continued the 
line with blazes and deadfalls, until, after a mile, they came 
to a broad tamarack swamp, and, skirting its edge, found 
a small, outflowing stream that brought them to an east- 
ward-facing hollow. Everywhere there were signs of 
game, but they were not prepared for the scene that 
opened as they cautiously pushed through the thickets 
into a high, hardwood bush. A deer rose out of the grass 
and stared curiously at them; then another and another 
until nearly a dozen were in sight; still farther many others 
appeared; to the left were more, and movements told of 
3^et others to the right. Then their white flags went up 
and all loped gently away on the slope that rose to the 
north. There may have been twenty or thirty deer in 

IIS 



•4 



u^'-,f-\ 






Rolf in the Woods 

sight, but the general effect of all their white tails bobbing 
away, was that the woods were full of deer. They seemed 
to be there by the hundreds and the joy of seeing so many 
beautiful live things was helped in the hunters by the 
feeling that this was their own hunting-ground. They 
had, indeed, reached the land of plenty. 

The stream increased as they marched; many springs 
and some important rivulets joined on. They found some 
old beaver signs but none new; and they left their dead- 
falls every quarter mile or less. 

The stream began to descend more quickly until it 
was in a long, narrow valley with steep clay sides and 
many pools. Here they saw again and again the tracks 
and signs of otter and coming quietly round a turn that 
opened a new reach they heard a deep splash, then another 
and another. 

The hunters' first thought was to tie up Skookum, but a 
glance showed that this was unnecessary. They softly 
dropped the packs and the sick dog lay meekly down 
beside them. Then they crept forward with, hunter 
caution, favoured by an easterly breeze. Their first 
thought was of beaver, but they had seen no recent sign, 
nor was there anything that looked like a beaver pond. 
The measured splash, splash, splash — was not so far ahead. 
It might be a bear snatching fish, or — no, that was too 
unpleasant — a man baling out a canoe. Still the slow 
splash, splash, went on at intervals, not quite regular. 

Now it seemed but thirty yards ahead and in the creek. 

With the utmost care they crawled to the edge of the clay 
bank, and opposite they saw a sight but rarely glimpsed 

ii6 



The Otter Slide 



by man. Here were six otters; two evidently full-grown, 
and four seeming young of the pair, engaged in a most 
hilarious and human game of tobogganing down a steep 
clay hill to plump into a deep part at its foot. 

Plump went the largest, presum.ably the father; down 
he went, to reappear at the edge, scramble out and up an 
easy slope to the top of the twenty-foot bank. Splash, 
splash, splash, came three of the young ones; splash, 
splash, the mother and one of the cubs almost together. 

''Scoot" went the big male again, and the wet fur slopping 
and rubbing on the long clay chute made it greasier and 
slipperier every time. 

Splash, plump, splash — splash, plump, splash, went 
the otter family gleefully, running up the bank again, 
eager each to be first, it seemed, and to do the chute the 
oftenest. 

The gambolling grace, the obvious good humour, the 
animal hilarity of it all, was absorbingly amusing. The 
trappers gazed with pleasure that showed how near akin 
are naturaHst and hunter. Of course, they had some 
covetous thought connected with those glossy hides, but 
this was September still, and even otter were not yet prime. 

Shoot, plump, splash, went the happy crew with ap- 
parently unabated joy and hilarity. The slide improved 
with use and the otters seemed tireless; when all at once 
a loud but muffled yelp was heard and Skookum, forgetting 
all caution, came leaping down the bank to take a hand. 

With a succession of shrill, birdy chirps the old otters 
warned their young. Plump, plump, plump, all shot 
into the pool, but to reappear, swimming with heads out, 

"7 




Rolf in the Woods * 

for they were but slightly alarmed. This was too much 
for Quonab; he levelled his flintlock; snap, bang, it went, 
pointed at the old male, but he dived at the snap and 
escaped. Down the bank now rushed the hunters, joined 
by Skookum, to attack the otters in the pool, for it was 
small and shallow; unless a burrow led from it, they were 
trapped. 

But the otters reahzed the peril. All six dashed out of 
the pool, down the open, gravelly stream the old ones 
uttering loud chirps that rang like screams. Under the 
fallen logs and brush they glided, dodging beneath roots 
and over banks, pursued by the hunters, each armed with 
a club and by Skookum not armed at all. 

The otters seemed to know where they were going and 
distanced all but the dog. Forgetting his own condition 
Skookum had almost overtaken one of the otter cubs when 
the mother wheeled about and, hissing and snarling, 
charged. Skookum was lucky to get off with a slight 
nip, for the otter is a dangerous fighter. But the unlucky 
dog was sent howling back to the two packs that he never 
should have left. 

The hunters now found an open stretch of woods through 
which Quonab could run ahead and intercept the otters 
as they bounded on down the stream bed, pursued by 
Rolf, who vainly tried to deal a blow with his club. In 
a few seconds the family party was up to Quonab, trapped 
it seemed, but there is no more desperate assailant than 
an otter fighting for its young. So far from being cowed 
the two old ones made a simultaneous, furious rush at the 
Indian. Wholly taken by surprise, he missed with his 

ii8 



The Otter Slide 

club, and sprang aside to escape their jaws. The family 
dashed around then past him, and, urged by the 
continuous chirps of the mother, they plunged under a 
succession of log jams and into a willow swamp that spread 
out into an ancient beaver lake and were swallowed up 
in the silent wilderness. 



119 




XXVI 1 

j 

Back to the Cabin \ 

AT THE far end of the long swamp the stream 1 

LjL emerged, now much larger, and the trappers kept 

-Z. JL on with their work. When night fell they had- 

completed fifty traps, all told, and again they camped- 

without shelter overhead. ! 

Next day Skookum was so much worse that they began j 
to fear for his life. He had eaten nothing since the sad| 
encounter. He could drink a little, so Rolf made a pot' 
of soup, and when it was cool the poor doggie managed to ! 
swallow some of the liquid after half an hour's patients 
endeavour. ■ 

They were now on the home line; from a hill top they got| 
a distant view of their lake, though it was at least five] 
miles away. Down the creek they went, still making their i 
deadfalls at likely places and still seeing game tracks at^ 
the muddy spots. The creek came at length to an exten-| 
sive, open, hardwood bush, and here it was joined by an-i 
other stream that came from the south, the two making a ! 
small river. From then on they seemed in a land of game ; ' 
trails of deer were seen on the ground everywhere, and; 
every few minutes they started one or two deer. The" 
shady oak wood itself was flanked and varied with dense! 

I20 



Back to the Cabin 

cedar swamps such as the deer love to winter in, and after 
they had tramped through two miles of it, the Indian said, 
''Good! now we know where to come in winter when we 
need meat." 

At a broad, muddy ford they passed an amazing number 
of tracks, mostly deer, but a few of panther, lynx, fisher, 
wolf, otter, and mink. 

In the afternoon they reached the lake. The stream, 
quite a broad one here, emptied in about four miles south 
of the camp. Leaving a deadfall near its mouth they 
followed the shore and made a log trap every quarter 
mile just above the high water mark. 

When they reached the place of Rolf's first deer they 
turned aside to see it. The gray jays had picked a good 
deal of the loose meat. No large animal had troubled 
it, and yet in the neighbourhood they found the tracks 
of both wolves and foxes. 

''Ugh," said Quonab, "they smell it and come near, but 
they know that a man has been here; they are not very 
hungry, so keep away. This is good for trap. " 

So they made two deadfalls with the carrion half way 
between them. Then one or two more traps and they 
reached home, arriving at the camp just as darkness and 
a heavy rainfall began. 

"Good," said Quonab, "our deadfalls are ready; we 
have done all the work our fingers could not do when the 
weather is very cold, and the ground too hard for stakes to 
be driven. Now the traps can get weathered before we 
go round and set them. Yet we need some strong medicine, 
some trapper charm. " 

121 



Rolf in the Woods 

Next morning he went forth with fish-line and fish-spear; 
he soon returned with a pickerel. He filled a bottle with 
cut-up shreds of this, corked it up, and hung it on the warm, 
sunny side of the shanty. ''That will make a charm that 
every bear will come to, '' he said, and left it to the action 
of the sun. 



122 



XXVII 
Sick Dog Skookum 

GETTING home is always a joy; but walking about 
the place in the morning they noticed several 
little things that were wrong. Quonab's lodge 
was down, the paddles that stood against the shanty were 
scattered on the ground, and a bag of venison hung high 
at the ridge was opened and empty. 

Quonab studied the tracks and announced "a bad old 
black bear; he has rollicked round for mischief, upsetting 
things. But the venison he could not reach; that was a 
marten that ripped open the bag." 

''Then that tells what we should do; build a storehouse 
at the end of the shanty," said Rolf, adding, "it must be 
tight and it must be cool." 

"Maybe! sometime before winter," said the Indian; 
"but now we should make another line of traps while the 
weather is fine. " 

"No," replied the lad, "Skookum is not fit to travel 
now. We can't leave him behind, and we can make a 
storehouse in three days. " 

The unhappy little dog was worse than ever. He could 
scarcely breathe, much less eat or drink, and the case was 
settled. 

123 



Rolf in the Woods 

First they bathed the invalid's head in water as hot as 
he could stand it. This seemed to help him so much that 
he swallowed eagerly some soup that they poured into 
his mouth. A bed was made for him in a sunny place and 
the hunters set about the new building. 

In three days the storehouse was done, excepting the 
chinking. It was October now, and a sharp night frost 
warned them of the hard white moons to come. Quonab, 
as he broke the ice in a tin cup and glanced at the low-hung 
sun, said: ^'The leaves are falling fast; snow comes soon; 
we need another line of traps. " 

He stopped suddenly; stared across the lake. Rolf 
looked, and here came three deer, two bucks and a doe, 
trotting, walking, or lightly clearing obstacles, the doe 
in advance; the others, rival followers. As they kept 
along the shore, they came nearer the cabin. Rolf glanced 
at Quonab, who nodded, then slipped in, got down the 
gun, and quickly ghded unseen to the river where the 
deer path landed. The bucks did not actually fight, for 
the season was not yet on, but their horns were clean, their 
necks were swelling, and they threatened each other as 
they trotted after the leader. They made for the ford 
as for some familiar path, and splashed through, almost 
without swimming. As they landed, Rolf waited a clear 
view, then gave a short sharp ^^Eistl'^ It was like a 
word of magic, for it turned the three moving deer to three 
stony-still statues. Rolf's sights were turned on the 
smaller buck, and when the great cloud following the bang 
had cleared away, the two were gone and the lesser buck 
was kicking on the ground some fifty yards away. 

124 



Sick Dog Skookum 

"We have found the good hunting; the deer walk into 
camp/^ said Quonab; and the product of the chase was 
quickly stored, the first of the supplies to be hung in the 
new storehouse. 

The entrails were piled up and covered with brush and 
stones. "That will keep off ravens and jays; then in 
winter the foxes will come and we can take their coats." 

Now they must decide for the morning. Skookum was 
somewhat better, but still very sick, and Rolf suggested: 
"Quonab, you take the gun and axe and lay a new line. I 
will stay behind and finish up the cabin for the winter and 
look after the dog. " So it was agreed. The Indian left 
the camp alone this time and crossed to the east shore of 
the lake; there to follow up another stream as before and 
to return in three or four days to the cabin. 



125 



XXVIII 
Alone in the Wilderness 

ROLF began the day by giving Skookum a bath 
as hot as he could stand it, and later his soup. 
For the first he whined f eebjy and for the second 
faintly wagged his tail; but clearly he was on the mend. 

Now the chinking and moss-plugging of the new cabin 
required all attention. That took a day and looked like 
the biggest job on hand, but Rolf had been thinking hard 
about the winter. In Connecticut the wiser settlers used 
to bank their houses for the cold weather; in the Adiron- 
dacks he knew it was far, far colder, and he soon decided 
to bank the two shanties as deeply as possible with earth. 
A good spade made of white oak, with its edge hardened 
by roasting it brown, was his first necessity, and after two 
days of digging he had the cabin with its annex buried 
up to "the eyes" in fresh, clean earth. 

A stock of new, dry wood for wet weather helped to 
show how much too small the cabin was; and now the 
heavier work was done, and Rolf had plenty of time to 
think. 

Which of us that has been left alone in the wilderness 
does not remember the sensations of the fitst day! The 
feeling of self -dependency, not unmixed with unrestraint; 

126 





yJ0S^ 


^^m^^ 
-"■"<■{,, 


f 



Alone in the Wilderness 

the ending of civilized thought; the total reversion to the 
primitive; the nearness of the wood-folk; a sense of inti- 
macy; a recurrent feeling of awe at the silent inexorability 
of all around; and a sweet pervading sense of mastery in 
the very freedom. These were among the feelings that 
swept in waves through Rolf, and when the first night 
came, he found such comfort — yes, he had to confess it — 
in the company of the helpless little dog whose bed was 
by his own. 

But these were sensations that come not often; in the 
four days and nights that he was alone they lost all force. 

The hunter proverb about ^'strange beasts when you 
have no gun" was amply illustrated now that Quonab had 
gone with their only firearm. The second night before 
turning in (he slept in the shanty now), he was taking a 
last look at the stars, when a large, dark form glided 
among the tree trunks between him and the shimmering 
lake; stopped, gazed at him, then silently disappeared 
along the shore. No wonder that he kept the shanty door 
closed that night, and next morning when he studied the 
sandy ridges he read plainly that his night visitor had be«n 
not a lynx or a fox, but a prowling cougar or panther. 

On the third morning as he went forth in the still early 
dawn he heard a snort, and looking toward the spruce 
woods, was amazed to see towering up, statuesque, almost 
grotesque, with its mulish ears and antediluvian horns, 
a large bull moose. 

Rolf was no coward, but the sight of that monster 
so close to him set his scalp a-prickling. He felt so help- 
Jess -yvithout any firearms. He stepped into the cabin^ 

J27 



Rolf in the Woods 

took down his bow and arrows, then gave a contemp- 
tuous *^ Humph; all right for partridge and squirrels, 
but give me a rifle for the woods!" He went out again; 
there was the moose standing as before. The lad rushed 
toward it a few steps, shouting; it stared unmoved. But 
Rolf was moved, and he retreated to the cabin. Then 
remembering the potency of fire he started a blaze on the 
hearth. The thick smoke curled up on the still air, 
hung low, made swishes through the grove, until a faint 
air current took a wreath of it to the moose. The great 
nostrils drank in a draught that conveyed terror to the 
creature's soul, and wheeling it started at its best pace to 
the distant swamp, to be seen no more. 

Five times, during these four days, did deer come by 
and behave as though they knew perfectly well that this 
young human was harmless, entirely without the power 
of the far-killing mystery. 

How intensely Rolf wished for a gun. How vividly 
came back the scene in the trader's store, when last month 
he had been offered a beautiful rifle for twenty-five dollars, 
to be paid for in fur next spring, and savagely he blamed 
himself for not realizing what a chance it was. Then 
and there he made resolve to be the owner of a gun as 
soon as another chance came, and to make that chance 
come right soon. 

One little victory he had in that time. The creature 
that had torn open the venison bag was still around the 
camp; that was plain by the further damage on the bag 
hung in the storehouse, the walls of which were not chinked. 
Mindful of Quonab's remark, he set two marten traps, 

128 







Alone in the Wilderness 

one on the roof, near the hole that had been used as entry; 
the other on a log along which the creature must climb 
to reach the meat. The method of setting is simple; a 
hollow is made, large enough to receive the trap as it lies 
open; on the pan of the trap some grass is laid smoothly; 
on each side of the trap a piece of prickly brush is placed, 
so that in leaping over these the creature will land on the 
lurking snare. The chain was made fast to a small log. 
Although so seldom seen there is no doubt that the 
marten comes out chiefly by day. That night the trap 
remained unsprung; next morning as Rolf went at silent 
dawn to bring water from the lake, he noticed a long, 
dark line that proved to be ducks. As he sat gazing he 
heard a sound in the tree beyond the cabin. It was like 
the scratching of a squirrel climbing about. Then he 
saw the creature, a large, dark squirrel, it seemed. It 
darted up this tree and down that, over logs and under 
brush, with the lightning speed of a lightning squirrel, 
and from time to time it stopped still as a bump while it 
gazed at some far and suspicious object. Up one trunk 
it went like a brown flash, and a moment later, out, cack- 
ling from its top, flew two partridges. Down to the 
ground, sinuous, graceful, incessantly active flashed the 
marten. Along a log it raced in undulating leaps; in the 
middle it stopped as though frozen, to gaze intently into 
a bed of sedge; with three billowy bounds its sleek form 
reached the sedge, flashed in and out again with a mouse 
in its snarling jaws; a side leap now, and another squeaker 
was squeakless, and another. The three were slain, then 
thrown aside, as the brown terror scanned a flight of 

129 



J) 



Rolf in the Woods 

ducks passing over. Into a thicket of willow it disap- 
peared and out again like an eel going through the mud, 
then up a tall stub where woodpecker holes were to be seen. 
Into the largest it went so quickly Rolf could scarcely see 
how it entered, and out in a few seconds bearing a flying 
squirrel whose skull it had crushed. Dropping the squir- 
rel it leaped after it, and pounced again on the quivering 
form with a fearsome growl; then shook it savagely, tore 
it apart, cast it aside. Over the ground it now undulated, 
its shining yellow breast like a target of gold. Again it 
stopped. Now in pose like a pointer, exquisitely graceful, 
but oh, so wicked ! Then the snaky neck swung the cobra 
head in the breeze and the brown one sniffed and sniffed, 
advanced a few steps, tried the wind and the ground. 
Still farther and the concentrated interest showed in its 
outstretched neck and quivering tail. Bounding into 
a thicket it went, when out of the other side there leaped 
a snowshoe rabbit, away and away for dear life. Jump, 
jump, jump; twelve feet at every stride, and faster than 
the eye could follow, with the marten close behind. What 
a race it was, and how they twinkled through the brush! 
The rabbit is, indeed, faster, but courage counts for much, 
and his was low; but luck and his good stars urged him 
round to the deer trail crossing of the stream; once there 
he could not turn. There was only one course. He 
sprang into the open river and swam for his life. And 
the marten — why should it go in? It hated the water; 
it was not hungry; it was out for sport, and water sport 
is not to its liking. It braced its sinewy legs and halted 
at the very brink, while bunny crossed to the safe ^oods. 

139 



^/?o^J^o^ 



Alone in the Wilderness 

Back now came Wahpestan, the brown death, over the 
logs like a winged snake, skimming the ground hke a 
sinister shadow, and heading for the cabin as the cabin's 
owner watched. Passing the body of the squirrel it 
paused to rend it again, then diving into the brush came 
out so far away and so soon that the watcher supposed 
at first that this was another marten. Up the shanty 
corner it flashed, hardly appearing to climb, swung that 
yellow throat and dark-brown muzzle for a second, then 
made toward the entry. 

Rolf sat with staring eyes as the beautiful demon, 
elegantly spurning the roof sods, went at easy, measured 
bounds toward the open chink — toward its doom. One, 
two, three — clearing the prickly cedar bush, its forefeet 
fell on the hidden trap ; clutch, a savage shriek, a flashing, 
— a struggle baffling the eyes to follow, and the master 
of the squirrels was himself under mastery. 

Rolf rushed forward now. The little demon in the trap 
was frothing with rage and hate; it ground the iron with 
its teeth; it shrieked at the human foeman coming. 

The scene must end, the quicker the better, and even as 
the marten itself had served the flying squirrel and the mice, 
and as Quonab served the mink, so Rolf served the marten 
and the woods was still. 



131 



XXIX 

Snowshoes 

THAT'S for Annette," said Rolf, remembering 
his promise as he hung the stretched marten 
skin to dry. 

*' Yi! Yi! Yi!" came three yelps, just as he had heard them 
the day he first met Quonab, and crossing the narrow lake 
he saw his partner's canoe. 

^'We have found the good hunting," he said, as Rolf 
steadied the canoe at the landing and Skookum, nearly well 
again, wagged his entire ulterior person to welcome the 
wanderer home. The first thing to catch the boy's eye was 
a great, splendid beaver skin stretched on a willow hoop. 
* ' Ho , ho 1 " he exclaimed . 

"Ugh; found another pond." 

"Good, good," said Rolf as he stroked the first beaver 
skin he had ever seen in the woods. 

"This is better," said Quonab, and held up the two bark- 
stones, castors, or smell-glands that are found in every 
beaver and which for some hid reason have an irresistible 
attraction for all wild animals. To us the odour is slight, 
but they have the power of intensifying, perpetuating, and 
projecting such odorous substances as may be mixed with 
them. No trapper considers his bait to be perfect without 

132 



^ Snowshocs 

a little of the mysterious castor. So that that most stench- 
able thing they had already concocted of fish-oil, pu- 
trescence, sewer-gas, and sunlight, when commingled and 
multiplied with the dried-up powder of a castor, was 
intensified into a rich, rancid, gas-exhaHng hell-broth as 
rapturously bewitching to our furry brothers as it is poison- 
ously nauseating to ourselves — seductive afar like the 
sweetest music, inexorable as fate, insidious as laughing- 
gas, soothing and numbing as absinthe — this, the lure and 
caution-luller, is the fellest trick in all the trappers' code. 
As deadly as inexplicable, not a few of the states have 
classed it with black magic and declared its use a crime. 

But no such sentiment prevailed in the high hills of 
Quonab's time, and their preparations for a successful 
trapping season were nearly perfect. Thirty deadfalls made 
by Quonab, with the sixty made on the first trip and a 
dozen steel traps, were surely promise of a good haul. It 
was nearly November now; the fur was prime; then why not 
begin? Because the weather was too fine. You must have 
frosty weather or the creatures taken in the deadfalls are 
spoiled before the trapper can get around. 

Already a good, big pile of wood was cut; both shanty and 
storeroom were chinked, plugged, and banked for the 
winter. It was not safe yet to shoot and store a number of 
deer, but there was something they could do. Snowshoes 
would soon be a necessary of life; and the more of this 
finger work they did while the weather was warm, the 
better. 

Birch and ash are used for frames; the former is less liable 
to split, but harder to work. White ash was plentiful on 

133 



Rolf in the Woods 

the near flat, and a small ten-foot log was soon cut and split 
into a lot of long laths. Quonab of course took charge; but 
Rolf followed in everything. Each took a lath and shaved 
it down evenly until an inch wide and three quarters of an 
inch thick. The exact middle was marked, and for ten 
inches at each side of that it was shaved down to half an 
inch in thickness. Two flat crossbars, ten and twelve 
inches long, were needed and holes to receive these made 
half through the frame. The pot was ready boiling and by 
using a cord from end to end of each lath they easily bent 
it in the middle and brought the wood into touch with the 
boiling water. Before an hour the steam had so softened 
the wood, and robbed it of spring, that it was easy to make 
it into any desired shape. Each lath was cautiously bent 
round; the crossbars slipped into their prepared sockets; a 
temporary lashing of cord kept all in place; then finally the 
frames were set on a level place with the fore end raised two 
inches and a heavy log put on the frame to give the upturn 
to the toe. 

Here they were left to dry and the Indian set about pre- 
paring the necessary thongs. A buckskin rolled in wet, 
hardwood ashes had been left in the mud hole. Now after 
a week the hair was easily scraped off and the hide, cleaned 
and trimmed of all loose ends and tags, was spread out — 
soft, white, and supple. Beginning outside, and following 
round and round the edge, Quonab cut a thong of rawhide 
as nearly as possible a quarter inch wide. This he carried on 
till there were many yards of it, and the hide was all used 
up. The second deer skin was much smaller and thinner. 
He sharpened his knife and cut it much finer, at least half 

134 



Snowshoes 

the width of the other. Now they were ready to lace 
the shoes, the finer for the fore and back parts, the heavy 
for the middle on which the wearer treads. An expert 
squaw would have laughed at the rude snowshoes that were 
finished that day, but they were strong and serviceable. 

Naturally the snowshoes suggested a toboggan. That 
was easily made by splitting four thin boards of ash, each 
six inches wide and ten feet long. An up-curl was steamed 
on the prow of each, and rawhide lashings held all to the 
crossbars. 




135 



XXX 

Catching a Fox 

As to wisdom, a man ain't a spring; he's a tank, an' gives out only 
what he gSLthers^*— Sayings of Si Sylvanne 

QUONAB would not quit his nightly couch in the 
canvas lodge so Rolf and Skookum stayed with 
him. The dog was himself again, and more 
than once in the hours of gloom dashed forth in noisy 
chase of something which morning study of the tracks 
showed to have been foxes. They were attracted partly 
by the carrion of the deer, partly by the general suitability 
of the sandy beach for a gambolling place, and partly 
by a foxy curiosity concerning the cabin, the hunters, 
and their dog. 

One morning after several night arousings and many 
raids by Skookum, Rolf said: ''Fox is good now; why 
shouldn't I add some fox pelts to that?" and he pointed 
with some pride to the marten skin. 

"Ugh, good; go ahead; you will learn," was the reply. 

So getting out the two fox traps Rolf set to work. No- 
ting where chiefly the foxes ran or played he chose two 
beaten pathways and hid the traps carefully, exactly as 
he did for the marten; then selecting a couple of small 
cedar branches he cut these and laid them across the path, 

136 



Catching a Fox 

one on each side of the trap, assuming that the foxes fol- 
lowing the usual route would leap over the boughs and land 
in disaster. To make doubly sure he put a piece of meat 
by each trap and half-way between them set a large piece 
on a stone. 

Then he sprinkled fresh earth over the pathway and 
around each trap and bait so he should have a record of 
the tracks. 

Foxes came that night, as he learned by the footprints 
along the beach, but never one went near his traps. He 
studied the marks; they slowly told him all the main facts. 
The foxes had come as usual, and frolicked about. They 
had discovered the bait and the traps at once — how could 
such sharp noses miss them — and as quickly noted that 
the traps were suspicious-smelling iron things, that man- 
scent, hand, foot, and body, were very evident all about; 
that the only inducement to go forward was some meat 
which was coarse and cold, not for a moment to be com- 
pared with the hot juicy mouse meat that abounded in 
every meadow. The foxes were well fed and unhungry. 
Why should they venture into such evident danger? In 
a- word, walls of stone could not have more completely 
"protected the ground and the meat from the foxes than 
aid the obvious nature of the traps; not a track was near, 
nd many afar showed how quickly they had veered off. 

'^Ugh, it is always so," said Quonab. "Will you try 

ain?" 
Yes, I will," replied Rolf, remembering now that he 



Had omitted to deodorize his traps and his boots 



He made a fire of cedar and smoked his traps, chains, x^-'A^ 



137 






/ 



Rolf in the Woods 

and^ll. Then taking a piece of raw venison he rubbed 
it on his leather gloves and on the soles of his boots, won- 
dering how he had expected to succeed the night before 
with all these man-scent killers left out. He put fine, soft 
moss under the pan of each trap, then removed the cedar 
brush, and gently sprinkled all with fine, dry earth. The 
set was perfect; no human eye could have told that there 
was any trap in the place. It seemed a foregone success. 

"Fox don't go by eye," was all the Indian said, for he 
reckoned it best to let the learner work it out. 

In the morning Rolf was up eager to see the results. 
There was nothing at all. A fox had indeed, come within 
ten feet at one place, but behaved then as though pos- 
itively amused at the childishness of the whole smelly 
affair. Had a man been there on guard with a club, he 
could not have kept the spot more wholly clear of foxes. 
Rolf turned away baffled and utterly puzzled. He had 
not gone far before he heard a most terrific yelping from 
Skookum, and turned to see that trouble-seeking pup 
caught by the leg in the first trap. It was more the 
horrible surprise than the pain, but he did howl. 

The hunters came quickly to the rescue and at once he 
was freed, none the worse, for the traps have no teeth; 
they merely hold. It is the long struggle and the star- 
vation chiefly that are cruel, and these every trapper should 
cut short by going often around his line. 

Now Quonab took part. "That is a good setting for 
some things. It would catch a coon, a mink, or a marten, 
— or a dog — but not a fox or a wolf. They are very 
clever. You shall see." 

138 



Catching a Fox 

The Indian got out a pair of thick leather gloves, smoked 
them in cedar, also the traps. Next he rubbed his moc- 
casin soles with raw meat and selecting a little bay in the 
shore he threw a long pole on the sand, from the line of 
high, dry shingle across to the water's edge. In his hand 
he carried a rough stake. Walking carefully on the pole 
and standing on it, he drove the stake in at about four feet 
from the shore; then split it, and stuffed some soft moss 
into the split. On this he poured three or four drops of 
the "smell-charm." Now he put a lump of spruce gum 
on the pan of the trap, holding a torch under it. till the 
gum was fused, and into this he pressed a small, flat stone. 

The chain of the trap he fastened to a ten-pound stone 
of convenient shape, and sank the stone in the water 
half-way between the stake and the shore. Last he placed 
the trap on this stone, so that when open everything would 
be under water except the flat stone on the pan. Now he 
returned along the pole and dragged it away with him. 

Thus there was now no track or scent of human near 
the place. 

The setting was a perfect one, but even then the foxes 
did not go near it the following night; they must become 
used to it. In their code, ''A strange thing is always 
dangerous. " In the morning Rolf was inclined to scoff. 
But Quonab said : " Wah ! No trap goes first night." 

They did not need to wait for the second morning. In 
the middle of the night Skookum rushed forth barking, and 
they followed to see a wild struggle, the fox leaping to^ 
escape and fast to his foot was the trap with its anchor 
stone a-dragging. 

139 



Rolf in the Woods 

Then was repeated the scene that ended the struggle 
of mink and marten. The creature's hind feet were tied 
together and his body hung from a peg in the shanty. 
In the morning they gloated over his splendid fur and added 
his coat to their store of trophies. 




140 



XXXI 

Following the Trap Line 

THAT night the moon changed. Next day came 
on with a strong north wind. By noon the wild 
ducks had left the lake. Many long strings of 
geese passed southeastward, honking as they flew. Colder 
and colder blew the strong wind, and soon the frost was 
showing on the smaller ponds. It snowed a little, but 
this ceased. With the clearing sky the wind fell and the 
frost grew keener. 

At daybreak, when the hunters rose, it was very cold. 
Everything but the open lake was frozen over^ and they 
knew that winter was come; the time of trapping was at 
hand. Quonab went at once to the pinnacle on the hill, 
made a little fire, then chanting the ''Hunter's Prayer," 
he cast into the fire the whiskers of the fox and the marten, 
some of the beaver castor, and some tobacco. Then 
descended to prepare for the trail — blankets, beaver- 
traps, weapons, and food for two days, besides the 
smell-charm and some fish for bait. 

Quickly the deadfalls were baited and set; last the Indian 
threw into the trap chamber a piece of moss on which was 
a drop of the "smell," and wiped another drop on each of 
his moccasins. "Phew," said Rolf. 

141 



Rolf in the' Woods 

"That make a trail the marten follow for a month," 
was the explanation. Skookum seemed to think so too, 
and if he did not say "phew," it was because he did not 
know how. 

Very soon the little dog treed a flock of partridge and 
Rolf with blunt arrows secured three. The breasts were 
saved for the hunters' table, but the rest with the offal and 
feathers made the best of marten baits and served for all 
the traps, till at noon they reached the beaver pond. It 
was covered with ice too thin to bear, but the freshly used 
landing places were easily selected. At each they set a 
strong, steel beaver- trap, concealing it amid some dry 
grass, and placing in a split stick a foot away a piece of 
moss in which were a few drops of the magic lure. The 
ring on the trap chain was slipped over a long, thin, 
smooth pole which was driven deep in the mud, the top 
pointing away from the deep water. The plan was old 
and proven. The beaver, eager to investigate that semi- 
frjendly smell, sets foot in the trap; instinctively when in 
danger he dives for the deep water; the ring slips along 
the pole till at the bottom and there it jams so that the 
beaver cannot rise again and is drowned. * 

In an hour the six traps were set for the beavers; presently 
the hunters, skirmishing for more partridges, had much 
trouble to save Skookum from another porcupine disaster. 

They got some more grouse, baited the traps for a couple 
of miles, then camped for the night. 

Before morning it came on to snow and it was three 
inches deep when they arose. There is no pl9,ce on earth 
where the first snow is more beautiful than in the Adiron- 

142 




Following: the Trap Line" 

dacks. In early autumn nature seems to prepare for it. 
Green leaves are cleared away to expose the berry buncHes 
in red; rushbeds mass their groups, turn golden brown 
and bow their heads to meet the silver load; the low hills 
and the lines of various Christmas trees are arrayed for 
the finest effect: the setting is perfect and the scene, but 
it lacks the lime light yet. It needs must have the lavish 
blaze of white. And when it comes like the veil on a 
bride, the silver mountings on a charger's trappings, 
or the golden fire in a sunset, the shining crystal robe 
is the finishing, the crowning glory, without which all the 
rest must fail, could have no bright completeness. Its 
beauty stirred the hunters though it found no better 
expression than Rolf's simple words, ''Ain't it fine," while 
the Indian gazed in silence. 

There is no other place in the eastern woods where the 
snow has such manifold tales to tell, and the hunters 
that day tramping found themselves dowered over night 
with the wonderful power of the hound to whom each trail 
is a plain record of every living creature that has passed 
within many hours. And though the first dg^y after a 
storm has less to tell than the second, just as the second 
has less than the third, there was no lack of story in the 
snow. Here sped some antlered buck, trotting along while 
yet the white was flying. There went a fox, sneaking 
across the line of march, and eying distrustfully that 
deadfall. This broad trail with many large tracks not 
far apart was made by one of Skookum's friends, a knight 
of many spears. That bounding along was a marten. 
See how he quartered that thicket like a hound, here he 

143 



Rolf in the Woods 

struck our odour trail. Mark, how he paused and whiffed 
it; now away he goes; yes, straight to our trap. 

"It's down; hurrah! "Rolf shouted, for there, dead under 
the log, was an exquisite marten, dark, almost black, with 
a great, broad, shining breast of gold. 

They were going back now toward the beaver lake. 
The next trap was sprung and empty; the next held the 
body of a red squirrel, a nuisance always and good only 
to rebait the trap he springs. But the next held a marten, 
and the next a white weasel. Others were unsprung, but 
they had two good pelts when they reached the beaver 
lake. They were in high spirits with their good luck, 
but not prepared for the marvellous haul that now was 
theirs. Each of the six traps held a big beaver, dead, 
drowned, and safe. Each skin was worth five dollars, 
and the hunters felt rich. The incident had, moreover, 
this pleasing significance: It showed that these beavers 
were unsophisticated, so had not been hunted. Fifty 
pelts might easily be taken from these ponds. 

The trappers reset the traps; then dividing the load, 
sought a remote place to camp, for it does not do to light 
a fire near your beaver pond. One hundred and fifty 
pounds of beaver, in addition to their packs, was not a 
load to be taken miles away; within half a mile on a lower 
level they selected a warm place, made a fire, and skinned 
their catch. The bodies they opened and hung in a tree 
with a view to future use, but the pelts and tails they 
carried on. 

They made a long, hard tramp that day, baiting all 
the traps and reached home late in the nights 

144 



-•.-?»— 




XXXII 

The Antler-bound Bucks 

IN THE man-world, November is the month of 
gloom, despair, and many suicides. 
In the wild world, November is the Mad Moon. 
Many and diverse the madnesses of the time, but none 
more insane than the rut of the white-tailed deer. Like 
some disease it appears, first in the swollen necks of the 
antler-bearers, and then in the feverish habits of all. 
Long and obstinate combats between the bucks now 
characterize the time; neglecting even to eat, they spend 
their days and nights in rushing about and seeking to 
kill. 

Their horns, growing steadily since spring, are now 
of full size, sharp, heavy, and cleaned of the velvet; in 
perfection. For what? Has Nature made them to 
pierce, wound, and destroy? Strange as it may seem, 
these weapons of offence are used for little but defence; 
less as spears than as bucklers they serve the deer in bat- 
tles with its kind. And the long, hard combats are little 
more than wrestling and pushing bouts; almost never 
do they end fatally. When a mortal thrust is given, 
it is rarely a gaping wound, but a sudden springing and 
locking of the antlers, whereby the two deer are bound 

US 



Rolf in the Woods 

together, inextricably, hopelessly, and so suffer death by 
starvation. The records of deer killed by their rivals 
and left on the duel-ground are few; very few and far 
between. The records of those killed by interlocking 
are numbered by the scores. 

There were hundreds of deer in this country that Rolf 
and Quonab claimed. Half of them were bucks, and at 
least half of these engaged in combat some times or many 
times a day, all through November; that is to say, prob- 
ably a thousand duels were fought that month, within ten 
miles of the cabin. It was not surprising that Rolf should 
witness some of them, and hear many more in the distance. 

They were living in the cabin now, and during the 
still, frosty nights, when he took a last look at the stars, 
before turning in, Rolf formed the habit of listening in- 
tently for the voices of the gloom. Sometimes it was 
the ''hoo-hoo" of the horned-owl; once or twice it was 
the long, smooth howl of the wolf; but many times it 
was the rattle of antlers that told of two bucks far up in 
the hardwoods, trying out the all-important question, 
*' Which is the better buck? '' 

One morning he heard still an occasional rattle at the 
same place as the night before. He set out alone, after 
breakfast, and coming cautiously near, peered into a 
little, open space to see two bucks with heads joined, 
slowly, feebly pushing this way and that. Their tongues 
were out; they seemed almost exhausted, and the trampled 
snow for an acre about plainly showed that they had been 
fighting for hours; that indeed these were the ones he 
had heard in the night. Still they were evenly matched, 

146 






The Antler-bound Bucks 

and the green light in their eyes told of the ferocious 
spirit in each of these gentle-looking deer. 

Rolf had no difficulty in walking quite near. If they 
saw him, they gave slight heed to the testimony of their 
eyes, for the unenergetic struggle went on until, again 
pausing for breath, they separated, raised their heads a 
little, sniffed, then trotted away from the dreaded enemy 
so near. Fifty yards off, they turned, shook their horns, 
seemed in doubt whether to run away, join battle again, 
or attack the man. Fortunately the first was their 
choice, and Rolf returned to the cabin. 

Quonab listened to his account, then said: "You 
might have been killed. Every buck is crazy now. Often 
they attack man. My father's brother was killed by a 
Mad Moon buck. They found only his body, torn to 
rags. He had got a little way up a tree, but the buck 
had pinned him. There were the marks, and in the snow 
they could see how he held on to the deer's horns and was 
dragged about till his strength gave out. He had no 
gun. The buck went off. That was all they knew. I 
would rather trust a bear than a deer." 

The Indian's words were few, but they drew a picture 
all too realistic. The next time Rolf heard the far sound 
of a deer fight, it brought back the horror of that hopeless 
fight in the snow, and gave him a new and different feel- 
ing for the antler-bearer of the changing mood. 
, It was two weeks after this, when he was coming in 
from a trip alone on part of the line, when his ear caught 
some strange sounds in the woods ahead; deep, sonorous, 
semi-human they were. Strange and weird wood-notes 

147 



Rolf in the Woods 

in winter are nearly sure to be those of a raven or a jay; 
if deep, they are likely to come from a raven. 

**Quok, quok, ha, ha, ha — hreww, hrrr, hooop, 
hooop," the diabolic noises came, and Rolf, coming 
gently forward, caught a glimpse of sable pinions swoop- 
ing through the lower pines. 

*'Ho, ho, ho — yah — hew - w - w - w " came the demon 
laughter of the death birds, and Rolf soon glimpsed a 
dozen of them in the branches, hopping or sometimes flying 
to the ground. One alighted on a brown bump. Then 
the bump began to move a little. The raven was pecking 
away, but again the brown bump heaved and the raven 
leaped to a near perch. " Wah — wah — wah - wo - hoo 
— yow-wow — rrrrrr-rrrr-rrrr" — and the other ravens 
joined in. 

Rolf had no weapons but his bow, his pocket knife, and 
a hatchet. He took the latter in his hand and walked 
gently forward; the hollow- voiced ravens ^'haw- hawed," 
then flew to safe perches where they chuckled like ghouls 
over some extra-ghoulish joke. 

The lad, coming closer, witnessed a scene that stirred 
him with mingled horror and pity. A great, strong buck — 
once strong, at least — was standing, staggering, kneeling 
there; sometimes on his hind legs, spasmodically heaving 
and tugging at a long gray form on the ground, the body 
of another buck, his rival, dead now, with a broken neck, 
as it proved, but bearing big, strong antlers with which 
the antlers of the living buck were interlocked as though 
riveted with iron, bolted with clamps of steel. With all 
his strength, the living buck could barely move his head, 

148 



The Antler-bound Bucks 



dragging his adversary's body with him. The snow marks 
showed that at first he had been able to haul the carcass 
many yards; had nibbled a little at shoots and twigs; but 
that was when he was stronger, was long before. How 
long? For days, at least, perhaps a week, that wretched 
buck was dying hopelessly a death that would not come. 
His gaunt sides, his parched and lolling tongue, less than 
a foot from the snow and yet beyond reach, the filmy eye, 
whose opaque veil of death was illumined again with a 
faint fire of fighting green as the new foe came. 

The ravens had picked the eyes out of the dead buck 
and eaten a hole in its back. They had even begun on the 
living buck, but he had been able to use one front foot to 
defend his eyes; still his plight could scarce have been more 
dreadful. It made the most pitiful spectacle Rolf had 
ever seen in wild life; yes, in all his life. He was full 
of compassion for the poor brute. He forgot it as a thing 
to be hunted for food; thought of it only as a harmless, 
beautiful creature in dire and horrible straits; a fellow-being 
in distress; and he at once set about being its helper. With 
hatchet in hand he came gently in front, and selecting an 
exposed part at the base of the dead buck's antler he gave 
a sharp blow with the hatchet. The effect on the living 
buck was surprising. He was roused to vigorous action 
that showed him far from death as yet. He plunged, then 
pulled backward, carrying with him the carcass and the 
would-be rescuer. Then Rolf remembered the Indian's 
words: ''You can make strong medicine with your mouth. " 
He spoke to the deer, gently, softly. Then came nearer, 
and tapped on the horn he wished to cut; softly speaking 

149 




Rolf in the Woods 

and tapping he increased his force, until at last he was 
permitted to chop seriously at that prison bar. It took 
many blows, for the antler stuff is very thick and strong 
at this time, but the horn was loose at last. Rolf gave it a 
twist and the strong buck was free. Free for what? 

Oh, tell it not among the folk who have been the wild 
deer's friend! Hide it from all who blindly believe that 
gratitude must always follow good-will! With unexpected 
energy, with pent-up fury, with hellish purpose, the ingrate 
sprang on his deliverer, aiming a blow as deadly as was 
in his power. 

Wholly taken by surprise, Rolf barely had time to 
seize the murderer's horns and ward them off his vitals. 
The buck made a furious lunge. Oh! what foul fiend was 
it gave him then such force? — and Rolf went down. 
Clinging for dear life to those wicked, shameful horns, he 
yelled as he never yelled before: ^'Quonab, Quonab! help 
me, oh, help me!" But he was pinned at once, the fierce 
brute above him pressing on his chest, striving to bring 
its horns to bear; his only salvation had been that their 
wide spread gave his body room between. But the weight 
on his chest was crushing out his force, his life; he had no 
breath to call again. How the ravens chuckled, and 
*' haw-hawed" in the tree! 

The buck's eyes gleamed again with the emerald light 
of murderous hate, and he jerked his strong neck this way 
and that with the power of madness. It could not last 
for long. The boy's strength was going fast; the beast 
was crushing in his chest. 

''Oh, God, help me!" he gasped, as the an tiered fiend 

ISO 



The Antler-bound Bucks 

began again struggling for the freedom of those murderous 
horns. The brute was almost free, when the ravens rose 
with loud croaks, and out of the woods dashed another to 
join the fight. A smaller deer? No; what? Rolf knew 
not, nor how, but in a moment there was a savage growl 
and Skookum had the murderer by the hind leg. Worrying 
and tearing he had not the strength to throw the deer, 
but his teeth were sharp, his heart was in his work, and 
when he transferred his fierce attack to parts more tender 
still, the buck, already spent, reared, wheeled, and fell. 
Before he could recover Skookum pounced upon him by the 
nose and hung on like a vice. The buck could swing his 
great neck a little, and drag the dog, but he could not shake 
him off. Rolf saw the chance, rose to his tottering legs, 
seized his hatchet, stunned the fierce brute with a blow. 
Then finding on the snow his missing knife he gave the 
hunter stroke that spilled the red life-blood and sank on 
the ground to know no more till Quonab stood beside him. 







iSi 



XXXIII 
A Song of Praise 

ROLF was lying by a fire when he came to, Quonab 
bending over him with a look of grave concern. 
When he opened his eyes, the Indian smiled; such 
a soft, sweet smile, with long, ivory rows in its background. 

Then he brought hot tea, and Rolf revived so he could 
sit up and tell the story of the morning. 

^'He is an evil Manito, " and he looked toward the dead 
buck; ''we must not eat him. You surely made medicine 
to bring Skookum." 

"Yes, I made medicine with my mouth,'' was the an- 
swer, "I called, I yelled, when he came at me." 

"It is a long way from here to the cabin, " was Quonab 's 
reply. "I could not hear you; Skookum could not hear 
you; but Cos Cob, my father, told me that when you send 
out a cry for help, you send medicine, too, that goes farther 
than the cry. May be so ; I do not know : my father was 
very wise.'' 

"Did you see Skookum come, Quonab?" 

"No; he was with me hours after you left, but he was 
restless and whimpered. Then he left me and it was a 
long time before I heard him bark. It was th^ 'something- 
wrong' bark. I went. He brought me here." 

152 



A Song of Praise 

"He must have followed my track all 'round the line." 

After an hour they set out for the cabin. The ravens 
" Ha-ha-ed' ' and " Ho-ho-ed '' as they went. Quonab took 
the fateful liorn that Rolf had chopped off, and hung it on 
a sapling with a piece of tobacco and a red yarn streamer, 
to appease the evil spirit that surely was near. There it 
hung for years after, until the sapling grew to a tree that 
swallowed the horn, all but the tip, which rotted away. 

Skookum took a final sniff at his fallen enemy, gave the 
body the customary expression of a dog's contempt, then 
led the procession homeward. 

Not that day, not the next, but on the first day of calm, 
red, sunset sky, went Quonab to his hill of worship; and 
when the little fire that he lit sent up its thread of smoke, 
like a plumb-Hne from the red cloud over him, he burnt a 
pinch of tobacco, and, with face and arms upraised in 
the red light, he sang a new song: 

"The evil one set a trap for my son, 

But the Manito saved him ; 

In the form of a Skookum he saved him." 



"y^-.' 



t^ 







153 



XXXIV 
The Birch-faark Vessels 

ROLF was sore and stiff for a week afterward; so 
was Skookum. There were times when Quonab 
was cold, moody, and silent for days. Then some 
milder wind would blow in the region of his heart and the 
bleak ice surface melted into running rills of memory or 
kindly emanation. 

Just before the buck adventure, there had been an un- 
pleasant time of chill and aloofness. It arose over little. 
Since the frost had come, sealing the waters outside, 
Quonab would wash his hands in the vessel that was also 
the bread pan. Rolf had New England ideas of propriety 
in cooking matters, and finally he forgot the respect due 
to age and experience. That was one reason why he went 
out alone that day. Now, with time to think things over, 
the obvious safeguard would be to have a wash bowl; but 
where to get it? In those days, tins were scarce and ex- 
pensive. It was the custom to look in the woods for nearly 
all the necessaries of life; and, guided by ancient custom 
and experience, they seldom looked in vain. Rolf had 
seen, and indeed made, watering troughs, pig troughs, 
sap troughs, hen troughs, etc., all his life, and he now set 
to work with the axe and a block of basswood to hew out 

154 




The Birch-bark Vessels 

a trough for a wash bowl. With adequate tools he might 
have made a good one; but, working with an axe and a 
stiff arm, the result was a very heavy, crude affair. It 
would indeed hold water, but it was almost impossible 
to dip it into the water hole, so that a dipper was needed. 

When Quonab saw the plan and the result, he said: 
" In my father's lodge we had only birch bark. See ; I shall 
make a bowl.'' He took from the storehouse a big roll 
of birch bark, gathered in warm weather (it can scarcely 
be done in cold), for use in repairing the canoe. Selecting 
a good part he cut out a square, two feet each way, and put 
it in the big pot which was full of boiling water. At the 
same time he soaked with it a bundle of wattap, or long 
fibrous roots of the white spruce, also gathered before 
the frost came, with a view to canoe repairs in the 
spring. 

While these were softening in the hot water, he cut a 
couple of long spHnts of birch, as nearly as possible half 
an inch wide and an eighth of an inch thick, and put them 
to steep with the bark. Next he made two or three 
straddle pins or clamps, like clothes pegs, by splitting the 
ends of some sticks which had a knot at one end. 

Now he took out the spruce roots, soft and pliant, and 
selecting a lot that were about an eighth of an inch in 
diameter, scraped off the bark and roughness, until he 
had a bundle of perhaps ten feet of soft, even, white 
cords. 

The bark was laid flat and cut as below. 

The rounding of A and B is necessary, for the holes of 
the sewing would tear the piece off if all were on the same 




:-■«-—- -.y 



- -y 



Rolf in the Woods 

line of grain. Each corner was now folded and doubled on 
itself (C) , then held so with a straddle pin (D) . The rim 
was trimmed so as to be flat where it crossed the fibre of 
the bark, and arched where it ran along. The pliant 
rods of birch were bent around this, and using the large 
awl to make holes, Quonab sewed the rim rods to the bark 
with an over-lapping stitch that made a smooth finish to 
the edge, and the birch-bark wash pan was complete. 
(E.) Much heavier bark can be used if the plan F G (p. 157) 
be followed, but it is hard to make it water-tight. 

So now they had a wash pan and a cause of friction was 
removed. Rolf found it amusing as well as useful to make 
other bark vessels of varying sizes for dippers and dunnage. 
It was work that he could do now while he was resting and 
recovering and he became expert. After watching a fairly 
successful attempt at a box to hold fish-hooks and tackle, 
Quonab said: "In my father's lodge these would bear 
quill work in colours.'' 

''That's so," said Rolf, remembering the birch-bark 
goods often sold by the Indians. "I wish we had a por- 
cupine now." 

''Maybe Skookum could find one," said the Indian, with 
a smile. 

"Will you let me kill the next Kahk we find? " 

"Yes, if you use the quills and burn its whiskers." 

"Why burn its whiskers?" 

"My father said it must be so. The smoke goes straight 
to the All-above ; then the Manito knows we have killed, 
but we have remembered to kill only for use and to thank 
Him." 

156 



f 
C 




The Birch-bark Vessels 

It was some days before they found a porcupine, and 
when they did, it was not necessary for them to kill it. But 
that belongs to another chapter. 

They saved its skin with all its spears and hung it in the 
storehouse. The quills with the white bodies and ready- 
made needle at each end are admirable for embroidering, 
but they are white only. 

"How can we dye them, Quonab?" 

"In the summer are many dyes; in winter they are hard 
to get. We can get some." 

So forth he went to a hemlock tree, and cut till he could 
gather the inner pink bark, which, boiled with the quills, 
turned them a dull pink; similarly, alder bark furnished 
rich orange, and butternut bark a brown. Oak chips, with 
a few bits of iron in the pot, dyed black. 

"Must wait till summer for red and green," said the 
Indian. "Red comes only from berries; the best is the 
bhtum. We call it squaw-berry and mis-caw-wa, yellow 
comes from the yellow root.* 

But black, white, orange, pink, brown, and a dull red 
made by a double dip of orange and pink, are a good range 
of colour. The method in using the quills is simple. An 
awl to make holes in the bark for each; the rough parts 
behind are concealed afterward with a lining of bark 
stitched over them; and before the winter was over, Rolf 
had made a birch-bark box, decorated lid and all, with por- 
cupine quill work, in which he kept the sable skin that was 
meant to buy Annette's new dress, the costume she had 
dreamed of, the ideal and splendid, almost unbelievable 

*Hydrastis. 

157 



: r ?^:^^-yy\'' r: 



F C 




Rolf in the Woods 

vision of her young life, ninety-five cents' worth of cotton 
print. 

There was one other point of dangerous friction. When- 
ever it fell to Quonab to wash the dishes, he simply set them 
on the ground and let Skookurn lick them off. This 
economical arrangement was satisfactory to Quonab, de- 
lightful to Skookum, and apparently justified by the 
finished product, but Rolf objected. The Indian said: 
"Don't he eat the same food as we do? You cannot tell if 
you do not see." 

Whenever he could do so, Rolf washed the doubtful 
dishes over again, yet there were many times when this was 
impossible, and the situation became very irritating. But 
he knew that the man who loses his temper has lost the first 
round of the fight, so, finding the general idea of uncleanness 
without avail, he sought for some purely Indian argument. 

As they sat by the evening fire, one day, he led up to talk 
of his mother — of her power as a medicine woman, of the 
many evil medicines that harmed her. ''It was evil med- 
icine for her if a dog licked her hand or touched her food. 
A dog Hcked her hand and the dream dog came to her three 
days before she died." After a long pause, he added, "In 
some ways I am like my mother." 

Two days later, Rolf chanced to see his friend behind the 
shanty give Skookum the pan to clean off after they had 
been frying deer fat. The Indian had no idea that Rolf was 
near, nor did he ever learn the truth of it. 

That night, after midnight, the lad rose quietly, lighted 
the pine splints that served them for a torch, rubbed some 
charcoal around each eye to make dark rings that should 

158 



nv iiu* «ir m w» 







The Birch-bark Vessels 

supply a horror-stricken look. Then he started in to pound 
on Quonab's tom-tom, singing: 

"Evil spirit leave me; 
Dog-face do not harm me." 

Quonab sat up in amazement. Rolf paid no head, but 
went on, bawling and drimiming and staring upward into 
vacant space. After a few minutes Skookum scratched 
and whined at the shanty door. Rolf rose, took his knife, 
cut a bunch of hair from Skookum 's neck and burned it in 
the torch, then went on singing with horrid solemnity: 

^'Evil spirit leave me; 
Dog-face do not harm me." 

At last he turned, and seeming to discover that Quonab 
was looking on, said: 

"The dream dog came to me. I thought 1 saw him lick 
deer grease from the frying pan behind the shanty. He 
laughed, for he knew that he made evil medicine for me. 
I am trying to drive him away, so he cannot harm me. I 
do not know. I am like my mother. She was very wise, 
but she died after it." 

Now Quonab .arose, cut some more hair from Skookum, 
added a pinch of tobacco, then, setting it ablaze, he sang 
in the rank odour of the burning weed and hair, his strong- 
est song to kill ill magic; and Rolf, as he chuckled and 
sweetly sank to sleep, knew that the fight was won. His 
friend would never, never more install Skookum in the high 
and sacred post of pot-licker, dishwasher, or final polisher. 

159 



^ 




5g,—A.vS" 


.cx:<vs3i 


/'/' "• 


•'•■1 






It*' ' 
1 •! ' . 


\\A 


I* ' «•. 


t >;§[ 






il 



XXXV 

Snaring Rabbits 

THE deepening snow about the cabin was marked 
in all the thickets by the multitudinous tracks 
of the snowshoe rabbits or white hares. Oc- 
casionally the hunters saw them, but paid Httle heed. Why 
should they look at rabbits when deer were plentiful? 

^'You catch rabbit?'' asked Quonab one day when Rolf 
was feeling fit again. 

*'I can shoot one with my bow,'' was the answer, "but 
why should I, when we have plenty of deer? " 

"My people always hunted rabbits. Sometimes no deer 
were to be found; then the rabbits were food. Some- 
times in the enemy's country it was not safe to hunt, 
except rabbits, with blunt arrows, and they were food. 
Sometimes only squaws and children in camp — nothing 
to eat; no guns; then the rabbits were food." 

"Well, see me get one," and Rolf took his bow and 
arrow. He found many white bunnies, but always in 
the thickest woods. Again and again he tried, but the 
tantalizing twigs and branches muflBled the bow and turned 
the arrow. It was hours before he returned with a fluffy 
snowshoe rabbit. 

"That is not our way. " Quonab led to the thicket and 

i6o 



Snaring Rabbits 

selecting a place of many tracks he cut a lot of brush and 
made a hedge across with half a dozen openings. At each 
of these openings he made a snare of strong cord tied to 
a long pole, hung on a crotch, and so arranged that a tug 
at the snare would free the pole which in turn would hoist 
the snare and the creature in it high in the air. 

Next morning they went around and found that four 
of the snares had each a snow-white rabbit hanging by 
the neck. As he was handling these, Quonab felt a Imnp / • - 
on the hind leg of one. He carefully cut it open and ^^-^ 
turned out a curious-looking object about the size of an 
acorn, flattened, made of flesh and covered with hair, 
and nearly the shape of a large bean. He gazed at it, and, 
turning to Rolf, said with intense meaning: 

"Ugh! we have found the good hunting. This is the 
Peeto-wab-oos-once, the little medicine rabbit. Now we 
have strong medicine in the lodge. You shall see. " 

He went out to the two remaining snares and passed 
the medicine rabbit through each. An hour later, when 
they returned, they found a rabbit taken in the first snare. ^!x., 

*'It isever so," said the Indian. "We can always catch i*iec(/cin£ 
rabbits now. My father had the Peeto-wab-i-ush once, T\al>I>it 

the little medicine deer, and so he never failed in hunting 
but twice. Then he found that his papoose, Quonab, had 
stolen his great medicine. He was a very wise papoose. 
He killed a chipmunk each of those days." 

"Hark! what is that?" A faint sound of rustling 
branches, and some short animal noises in the woods had 
caught Rolf's ear, and Skookum's, too, for he was off like 
one whose life is bound up in a great purpose. 

i6i 



II 




Rolf in the Woods 

"Yap, yap, yap/' came the angry sound from Skookum. 
Who can say that animals have no language? His merry 
''Yip, 3dp, yip,'' for partridge up a tree, or his long, hilari- 
ous, ''Yow, yow, yow," when despite all orders he chased 
some deer, were totally distinct from the angry "Yap, 
yap," he gave for the bear up the tree, or the "Grrryap- 
grryap," with which he voiced his hatred of the porcupine. 

But now it was the ''Yap, yap," as when he had treed 
the bears. 

"Something up a tree," was the Indian's interpretation, 
as they followed the sound. Something up a tree! A 
whole menagerie it seemed to Rolf when they got there. 
Hanging by the neck in the remaining snare, and limp 
now, was a young lynx, a kit of the year. In the adjoin- 
ing tree, with Skookum circling and yapping 'round the 
base, was a savage old lynx. In the crotch above her 
was another young one, and still higher was a third, all 
looking their unutterable disgust at the noisy dog below; 
the mother, indeed, expressing it in occasional hisses, but 
none of them daring to come down and face him. The 
lynx is very good fur and very easy prey. The Indian 
brought the old one down with a shot; then, as fast as he 
could reload, the others were added to the bag, and, with 
the one from the snare, they returned laden to the cabin. 

The Indian's eyes shone with a peculiar light. "Ugh! 
Ugh! My father told me; it is great medicine. You 
see, now, it does not fail. " 



H 



XXXVI 
Something Wrong at the Beaver Traps 

ONCE a week they had run the trap lines, and their 
store of furs was increasing finely. They had taken 
twenty-five beavers and counted on getting two or 
three each time they went to the ponds. But they got an 
unpleasant surprise in December, on going to the beaver 
grounds, to find all the traps empty and unmistakable 
signs that some man had been there and had gone off with 
the catch. They followed the dim trail of his snowshoes, 
half hidden by a recent wind, but night came on with more 
snow, and all signs were lost. 

The thief had not found the Hne yet, for the haul of 
marten and mink was good. But this was merely the 
beginning. 

The trapper law of the wilderness is much like all primi- 
tive laws; first come has first right, provided he is able to 
hold it. If a strong rival comes in, the first must fight as 
best he can. The law justifies him in anything he may do, 
if he succeeds. The law justifies the second in anything he 
may do, except murder. That is, the defender may shoot 
to kill; the offender may not. 

But the fact of Quonab's being an Indian and Rolf 
supposedly one, would turn opinion against them in the 

163 



Rolf in the Woods 

Adirondacks, and it was quite likely that the rival consid- 
ered them trespassers on his grounds, although the fact that 
he robbed their traps without removing them, and kept out 
of sight, rather showed the guilty conscience of a self- 
accused poacher. 

He came in from the west, obviously; probably the 
Racquet River country; was a large man, judging by his 
foot and stride, and understood trapping; but lazy, for he 
set no traps. His principal object seemed to be to steal. 

And it was not long before he found their line of marten 
traps, so his depredations increased. Primitive emotions 
are near the surface at all times, and under primitive con- 
ditions are very ready to appear. Rolf and Quonab felt 
that now it was war. 



164 



XXXVII 
The Pekan or Fisher 

THERE was one large track in the snow that they saw 
several times; it was like that of a marten, but 
much larger. "Pekan," said the Indian, "the big 
marten; the very strong one, that fights without fear. 

"When my father was a papoose he shot an arrow at a 
pekan. He did not know what it was; it seemed only a big 
black marten. It was wounded, but sprang from the tree 
on my father's breast. It would have killed him, but for 
the dog; then it would have killed the dog, but my grand- 
father was near. 

"He made my father eat the pekan's heart, so his heart 
might be like it. It sought no fight, but it turned, when 
struck, and fought without fear. That is the right way; 
seek peace, but fight without fear. That was my father's 
heart and mine." Then glancing toward the west he con- 
tinued in a tone of menace: "That trap robber will find it 
so. We sought no fight, but some day I kill him." 

The big track went in bounds, to be lost in a low, thick 
woods. But they met it again. 

They were crossing a hemlock ridge a mile farther on> 
when they came to another track which was first a 
long, deep furrow, some fifteen inches wide, and in this 

16S 




Rolf in the Woods 

were th^ wide-spread prints of feet as large as those of a 
fisher. 

^'Kahk," said Quonab, and Skookum said ^'Kahk," too, 
but he did it by growHng and raising his back hair, and 
doubtless also by sadly remembering. His discretion 
seemed as yet embryonic, so Rolf slipped his sash through 
the dog's collar, and they followed the track, for the porcu- 
pine now stood in Rolf's mind as a sort of embroidery outfit. 

They had not followed far before another track joined 
on — the track of the fisher-pekan; and soon after they 
heard in the woods ahead scratching sounds, as of some- 
thing climbing, and once or twice a faint, far, fighting snarl. 

Quickly tying the over-valiant Skookum to a tree, they 
crept forward, ready for anything, and arrived on the scene 
of a very peculiar action. 

Action it was, though it was singularly devoid of action. 
First, there was a creature, Hke a huge black marten or a 
short-legged black fox, standing at a safe distance, while, 
partly hidden under a log, with hind quarters and tail only 
exposed, was a large porcupine. Both were very still, but 
soon the fisher snarled and made a forward lunge. The 
porcupine, hearing the sounds or feeling the snow dash up 
on that side, struck with its tail; but the fisher kept out of 
reach. Next a feint was made on the other side, with the 
same result; then many, as though the fisher were trying 
to tire out the tail or use up all its quills. 

Sometimes the assailant leaped on the log and teased the 
quill-pig to strike upward, while many white daggers 
already sunk in the bark showed that these tactics had 
been going on for some time. 

i66 



The Pekan or Fisher 

Now the two spectators saw by the trail that a similar 
battle had been fought at another log, and that the por- 
cupine trail from that was spotted with blood. How the 
fish6r had forced it out was not then clear, but soon 
became so. 

After feinting till the Kahk would not strike, the pekan 
began a new. manoeuvre. Starting on the opposite side 
of the log that protected the spiny one's nose, he burrowed 
quickly through the snow and leaves. The log was 
about three inches from the ground, and before the por- 
cupine could realize it, the fisher had a space cleared and 
seized the spiny one by its soft, unspiny nose. Grunting 
and squealing it pulled back and lashed its terrible tail. 
To what effect? Merely to fill the log around with quills. 
With all its strength the quill-pig pulled and writhed, but 
the fisher was stronger. His claws enlarged the hole and 
when the victim ceased from exhaustion, the fisher made 
a forward dash and changed his hold from the tender nose 
to the still more tender throat of the porcupine. His hold 
was not deep enough and square enough to seize the wind- 
pipe, but he held on. For a minute or two the struggles 
of Kahk were of desperate energy and its lashing tail 
began to be short of spines, but a red stream trickling from 
the wound was sapping its strength. Protected by the 
log, the fisher had but to hold on and play a waiting game. 

The heaving and backward pulling of Kahk were very 
feeble at length; the fisher had nearly finished the fight. But 
he was impatient of further delay and backing out of the 
hole he mounted the log, displaying a much scratched nose; 
then reaching down with deft paw, near the quill-pig's 

167 



Rolf in the Woods 

shoulder, he gave a sudden jerk that threw the former over 
on its back, and before it could recover, the fisher's jaws 
closed on its ribs, and crushed and tore. The nerveless, 
almost quilless tail could not harm him there. The red 
blood flowed and the porcupine lay still. Again and again 
as he uttered chesty growls the pekan ground his teeth 
into the warm flesh and shook and worried the unconquer- 
able one he had conquered. He was Hcking his bloody 
chops for the twentieth time, gloating in gore, when 
"crack" went Quonab's gun, and the pekan had an op- 
portunity- of resuming the combat with Kahk far away 
in the Happy Hunting. 

"Yap, yap, yap!" and in rushed Skookum, dragging the 
end of Rolf's sash which he had gnawed through in his 
determination to be in the fight, no matter what it cost; 
and it was entirely due to the fact that the porcupine was 
belly up, that Skookum did not have another hospital 
experience. 

This was Rolf's first sight of a fisher, and he examined 
it as one does any animal — or man — that one has so long 
heard described in superlative terms that it has become 
idealized into a semi-myth. This was the desperado of 
the woods; the weird black cat that feared no living thing. 
This was the only one that could fight and win against 
Kahk. 

They made a fire at once, and while Rolf got the mid-day 
meal of tea and venison, Quonab skinned the fisher. Then 
he cut out its heart and Hver. When these were cooked 
he gave the first to Rolf and the second to Skookum, 
saying to the one, "I give you a pekan heart;" and to the 

i68 



The Pekan or Fisher 

dog, "That will force all of the quills out of you if you 

play the fool again, as I think you will. " i 

In the skin of the fisher's neck and tail they found sev- j J 

eral quills, some of them new, some of them dating evi- 1 1 

dently from another fight of the same kind, but none of i 

them had done any damage. There was no inflammation i 

or sign of poisoning. "It is ever so," said Quonab, "the ! 

quills cannot hurt him. " Then, turning to the porcupine, I 

he remarked, as he prepared to skin it: 

"Ho, Kahk! you see now it was a big mistake you did 
not let Nana Bojou sit on the dry end of that log." 



169 



XXXVIII 
The Silver Fox 

THEY were returning to the cabin, one day, when 
Quonab stopped and pointed. Away off on 
the snow of the far shore was a moving shape 
to be seen. 

"Fox, and I think silver fox; he sp black. I think 
he lives there." 

*^Why?" 

"I have seen many times a very big fox track, and they 
do not go where they do not live. Even in winter they 
keep their own range. " 

''He's worth ten martens, they say?" queried Rolf. 

"Ugh! fifty." 

"Can't we get him?" 

"Gantry. But the water set will not work in winter; 
we must try different." 

This was the plan, the best that Quonab could devise 
for the snow: Saving the ashes from the fire (dry sand 
would have answered), he selected six open places in the 
woods on the south of the lake, and in each made an ash 
bed on which he scattered three or four drops of the smell- 
charm. Then, twenty-five yards from each, on the north 
or west side (the side of the prevailing wind) he hung from 

170 



The Silver Fox 

some sapling a few feathers, a partridge wing or tail with 
some red yarns to it. He left the places unvisited for 
two weeks, then returned to learn the progress of 
act one. 

Judging from past experience of fox nature and from 
the few signs that were offered by the snow, this is what 
had happened: A fox came along soon after the trappers 
left, followed the track a Uttle way, came to the first open- 
ing, smelled the seductive danger-lure, swung around it, 
saw the danghng feathers, took alarm, and went off. 
Another of the places had been visited by a marten. He 
had actually scratched in the ashes. A wolf had gone 
around another at a safe distance. 

Another had been shunned several times by a fox or 
by foxes, but they had come again and again and at last 
yielded to the temptation to investigate the danger-smell; 
finally had rolled in it, evidently wallowing in an abandon 
of delight. So far, the plan was working there. 

The next move was to set the six strong fox traps, each 
thoroughly smoked, and chained to a fifteen-pound block 
of wood. 

Approaching the place carefully and using his blood- 
rubbed glove, Quonab set in each ash pile a trap. Under 
its face he put a wad of white rabbit fur. Next he buried 
all ^in the ashes, scattered a few bits of rabbit and a few 
drops of smell-charm, then dashed snow over the place, 
renewed the dangling feathers to lure the eye; and finally 
left the rest to the weather. 

Rolf was keen to go the next day, but the old man 
said: "Wah! no good! no trap go first night; man smell 

171 




,*v 



Rolf in the Woods 

too strong." The second day there was a snowfall, and the 
third morning Quonab said, ' ' Now seem like good time/ ' 

The first trap was untouched, but there was clearly 
the track of a large fox within ten yards of it. 

The second was gone. Quonab said, with surprise in 
his voice, ''Deer!" Yes, truly, there was the record. 
A deer — a big one — had come wandering past; his 
keen nose soon apprised him of a strong, queer appeal 
near by. He had gone unsuspiciously toward it, sniffed 
and pawed the unaccountable and exciting nose medicine; 
then ^'snap!" and he had sprung a dozen feet, with that 
diabolic smell-thing hanging to his foot. Hop, hop, hop, 
the terrified deer had gone into a slashing windfall. Then 
the drag had caught on the logs, and, thanks to the hard 
and taper hoofs, the trap had slipped off and been left 
behind, while the deer had sought safer regions. 

In the next trap they found a beautiful marten dead, 
killed at once by the clutch of steel. The last trap was 
gone, but the tracks and the marks told a tale that any one 
could read; a fox had been beguiled and had gone off, 
dragging the trap and log. Not far did they need to go; 
held in a thicket they found him, and Rolf prepared the 
mid-day meal while Quonab gathered the pelt. After 
removing the skin the Indian cut deep and carefully into 
the body of the fox and removed the bladder. Its con- 
tents sprinkled near each of the traps was good medicine, 
he said; a view that was evidently shared by Skookum. 

More than once they saw the track of the big fox of 
the region, but never very near the snare, He was too 
clever to be fooled by smell-spells or kidney products, 

172 



The Silver Fox 

no matter how temptingly arrayed. The trappers did, 
indeed, capture three red foxes; but it was at cost of great 
labour. It was a venture that did not pay. The silver 
fox was there, but he took too good care of his precious 
hide. The slightest hint of a man being near was enough 
to treble his already double wariness. They would never 
have seen him near at hand, but for a stirring episode that 
told a tale of winter hardship. 



173 



XXXIX 
The Humiliation of Skookum 

IF SKOOKUM could have been interviewed by a news- 
paper man, he would doubtless have said: "I am 
a very remarkable dog. I can tree partridges. 
I'm death on porcupines. I am pretty good in a dog 
fight; never was licked in fact: but my really marvellous 
gift is my speed; I'm a terror to run." 

Yes, he was very proud of his legs, and the foxes that 
came about in the winter nights gave him many oppor- 
tunities of showing what he could do. Many times over 
he very nearly caught a fox. Skookum did not know that 
these wily ones were playing with him; but they were, 
and enjoyed it immensely. 

The self-sufhcient cur never found this out, and never 
lost a chance of nearly catching a fox. The men did not 
see those autumn chases because they were by night; but 
foxes hunt much by day in winter, perforce, and are 
often seen; and more than once they witnessed one of these 
fa,rcical races. 

And now the shining white furnished background for 
a much more important affair. 

It was near sundown one day when a faint fox bark 
was heard out on the snow-covered ice of the lake. 

174 



i 



The Humiliation of Skoofcum 

''That's for me," Skookum seemed to think, and jump- 
ing up, with a very fierce growl, he trotted forth; the men 
looked first from the window. Out on the snow, sitting 
on his haunches, was their friend, the big, black silver fox. 

Quonab reached for his gun and Rolf tried to call 
Skookum, but it was too late. He was out to catch that 
fox; their business was to look on and applaud. The fox 
sat on his haunches, grinning apparently, until Skookum 
dashed through the snow within twenty yards. Then, 
that shining, black fox loped gently away, his huge tail 
level out behind him, and Skookum, sure of success, raced 
up, within six or seven yards. A few more leaps now, and 
the victory would be won. But somehow he could not 
close that six- or seven-yard gap. No matter how he 
strained and leaped, the great black brush was just so far 
ahead. At first they had headed for the shore, but the 
fox wheeled back to the ice and up and down. Skookum 
felt it was because escape was hopeless, and he redoubled 
his effort. But all in vain. He was only wearing himself 
out, panting noisily now. The snow was deep enough 
to be a great disadvantage, more to dog than to fox, since 
weight counted as such a handicap. Unconsciously Skoo- 
kimi slowed up. The fox increased his headway; then 
audaciously turned around and sat down in the snow. 

This was too much for the dog. He wasted about a 
lungful of air in an angry bark, and again went after the 
enemy. Again the chase was round and round, but very 
soon the dog was so wearied that he sat down, and now the 
black fox actually came back and barked at him. 

It was maddening. Skookum's pride was touched. 

I7S 



Rolf in the Woods .,„^ 

He was in to win or break. His supreme effort brougnr 
him within five feet of that white-tipped brush. Then, 
strange to tell, the big black fox put forth his large reserve 
of speed, and making for the woods, left Skookimi far 
behind. Why? The cause was clear. Quonab, after 
vainly watching for a chance to shoot, that would not 
endanger the dog, had, under cover, crept around the lake 
and now was awaiting in a thicket. But the fox's keen 
nose had warned him. He knew that the funny part 
was over, so ran for the woods and disappeared as a ball 
tossed up the snow behind him. 

Poor Skookum's tongue was nearly a foot long as he 
walked meekly ashore. He looked depressed; his tail 
was depressed; so were his ears; but there was nothing to 
show whether he would have told that reporter that he 
"wasn't feeling up to his usual, to-day," or "Didn't you 
see me get the best of him?'' 



/^'^^ *• ^ 



rirM 



176 



XL 
The Rarest of Pelts 

THEY saw that silver fox three or four times during 
the winter, and once found that he had had the 
audacity to jump from a high snowdrift onto 
the storehouse and thence to the cabin roof, where he had 
feasted on some white rabbits kept there for deadfall 
baits. But all attempts to trap or shoot him were vain, 
and their acquaintance might have ended as it began, 
but for an accident. 

It proved a winter of much snow. Heavy snow is the 
worst misfortune that can befall the wood folk in fur. It 
hides their food beyond reach, and it checks their move- 
ments so they can neither travel far in search of provender 
nor run fast to escape their enemies. Deep snow then 
means fetters, starvation, and death. There are two 
ways of meeting the problem: stilts and snowshoes. The 
second is far the better. The caribou, and the moose 
have stilts; the rabbit, the panther, and the lynx 
wear snowshoes. When there are three or four feet of 
soft snow, the lynx is king of all small beasts, and little 
in fear of the large ones. Man on his snowshoes has most 
wild four-foots at his mercy. 

Skookum, without either means of meeting the trouble 

177 




Rolf in the Woods 

was left much alone in the shanty. Apparently, it was 
on one of these occasions that the silver fox had driven 
him nearly frantic by eating rabbits on the roof above him. 

The exasperating robbery of their trap line had gone on 
irregularly all winter, but the thief was clever enough or 
lucky enough to elude them. 

They were returning to the cabin after a three days' 
round, when they saw, far out on the white expanse of 
the lake, two animals, alternately running and fighting. 
''Skookum and the fox,'' was the first thought that came, 
but on entering the cabin Skookum greeted them in person. 

Quonab gazed intently at the two running specks and 
said: "One has no tail. I think it is a peeshoo (lynx) 
and a fox." 

Rolf was making dinner. From time to time he 
glanced over the lake and saw the two specks, usually 
running. After dinner was over, he said, "Let's sneak 
'round and see if we can get a shot." 

So, putting on their snowshoes and keeping out of sight, 
they skimmed over the deer crossing and through the 
woods, till at a point near the fighters, and there they saw 
something that recalled at once the day of Skookum's 
humiliation. 

A hundred yards away on the open snow was a huge 
lynx and their old friend, the black and shining silver fox, 
face to face; the fox desperate, showing his rows of beautiful 
teeth, but sinking belly deep in the snow as he strove to 
escape. Already he was badly woimded. In any case 
he was at the mercy of the lynx who, in spite of his greater 
weight, had such broad and perfect snowshoes that he 

178 



vMM , . 





The fox, sinking deep, was hopelessly overmatched 



The Rarest of Pelts 

skimmed on the surface, while the fox's small feet sank 
deep. The lynx was far from fresh, and still stood in some 
awe of those rows of teeth that snapped like traps when 
he came too near. He was minded, of course, to kill his 
black rival, but not to be hurt in doing so. Again and 
again there was in some sort a closing fight, the wearied 
fox plunging breathlessly through the treacherous, relent- 
less snow. If he could only get back to cover, he might 
find a corner to protect his rear and have some fighting 
chance for life. But wherever he turned that huge cat 
faced him, doubly armed, and equipped as a fox can never 
be for the snow. 

No one could watch that plucky fight without feeling 
his sympathies go out to the beautiful silver fox. Rolf, 
at least, was for helping him to escape, when the final 
onset came. In another dash for the woods the fox plunged 
out of sight in a drift made soft by sedge sticking through, 
and before he could recover, the lynx's jaws closed on the 
back of his neck and the relentless claws had pierced his 
vitals. 

The justification of killing is self-preservation, and in 
this case the proof would have been the lynx making a 
meal of the fox. Did he do so? Not at all. He shook 
his fur, licked his chest and paws in a self-congratulatory 
way, then giving a final tug at the body, walked calmly over 
the snow along the shore. 

Quonab put the back of his hand to his mouth and made 
a loud squeaking, much Hke a rabbit caught in a snare. 
The lynx stopped, wheeled, and came trotting straight 
toward the promising music. Unsuspectingly he came 

179 




Rolf in the Woods 

within twenty yards of the trappers. The flint-lock 
banged and the lynx was kicking in the snow. 

The beautiful silver fox skin was very little injured and 
proved of value almost to double their catch so far; while 
the lynx skin was as good as another marten. 

They now had opportunity of studying the tracks and 
learned that the fox had been hunting rabbits in a thicket 
when he was set on by the lynx. At first he had run 
around in the bushes and saved himself from serious in- 
jury, for the snow was partly packed by the rabbits. After 
perhaps an hour of this, he had wearied and sought to save 
himself by abandoning the lynx's territory, so had struck 
across the open lake. But here the snow was too soft to 
bear him at all, and the lynx could still skim over. So it 
proved a fatal error. He was strong and brave. He 
fought at least another hour here before the much stronger, 
heavier lynx had done him to death. There was no justi- 
fication. It was a clear case of tyrannical murder, but 
in this case vengeance was swift and justice came sooner 
than its wont. 




i8o 



XLI 



The Enemy's Fort 

It pays 'bout once in a hundred times to git mad, but there ain't any way o* 
tellin'" beforehand which is the time — Sayings oj Si Sylvanne. 

IT GENERALLY took two days to run the west 
line of traps. At a convenient point they had 
built a rough shack for a half-way house. On 
entering this one day, they learned that since their last 
visit it had been occupied by some one who chewed to- 
bacco. Neither of them had this habit. Quonab's face, 
grew darker each time fresh evidence of the enemy was 
discovered, and the final wrong was added soon. 

Some trappers mark their traps; some do not bother. 
Rolf had marked all of theirs with a file, cutting notches 
on the iron. Two, one, three, was their mark, and it was 
a wise plan, as it turned out. 

On going around the west beaver pond they found that 
all six traps had disappeared. In some, there was no 
evidence of the thief; in some, the tracks showed clearly 
that they were taken by the same interloper that had 
bothered them all along, and on a jagged branch was a 
short blue yarn. 

take up his trail and kill him," said 



"Now will 
the Indian. 



i8i 



i ! 



= 1 (. 



h 



Rolf in the Woods 

Rolf had opposed extreme measures, and again he re- 
monstrated. To his surprise, the Indian turned fiercely 
and said: "You know it is white man. If he was Indian 
would you be patient? No!'' 

"There is plenty of country south of the lake; maybe 
he was here first." 

^'You know he was not. You should eat many pekan 
hearts. I have sought peace, now I fight. " 

He shouldered his pack, grasped his gun, and his snow- 
shoes went ^'tssape, tssape, tssape,'^ over the snow. 

Skookum was sitting by Rolf. He rose to resume the 
march, and trotted a few steps on Quonab's trail. Rolf 
did not move; he was dazed by the sudden and painful 
situation. Mutiny is always worse than war. Skookum 
looked back, trotted on, still Rolf sat staring. Quonab's 
figure was lost in the distance; the dog's was nearly so. 
Rolf moved not. All the events of the last year were 
rushing through his mind; the refuge he had found with 
the Indian; the incident of the buck fight and the tender 
nurse the red man proved. He wavered. Then he saw 
Skookum coming back on the trail. The dog trotted up to 
the boy and dropped a glove, one of Quonab's. Undoubt- 
edly the Indian had lost it; Skookum had found it on the 
trail and mechanically brought it to the nearest of his mas- 
ters. Without that glove Quonab's hand would freeze. Rolf 
rose and sped along the other's trail. Having taken the 
step, he found it easy to send a long halloo, then another and 
another, till an answer came. In a few minutes Rolf came 
up. The Indian was sitting on a log, waiting. The glove 
was handed over in silence, and received with a grunt. 

182 




The Enemy^s Fort 

After a minute or two, Rolf said, "Let's get on," and 
started on the dim trail of the robber. 

For an hour or two they strode in silence. Then their 
course rose as they reached a rocky range. Among its 
bare, wind-swept ridges all sign was lost, but the Indian 
kept on till they were over and on the other side. A far 
cast in the thick, windless woods revealed the trail again, 
surely the same, for the snowshoe was two fingers wider on 
every side, and a hand-breadth longer than Quonab's; be- 
sides the right frame had been broken and the binding of 
rawhide was faintly seen in the snow mark. It was a mark 
they had seen all winter, and now it was headed as before 
for the west. 

When night came down, they camped in a hollow. They 
were used to snow camps. In the morning they went on, 
but wind and snow had hidden their tell-tale guide. 

What was the next move? Rolf did not ask, but won- 
dered. 

Quonab evidently was puzzled. 

At length Rolf ventured: "He surely lives by some river 
— that way — and within a day's journey. This track 
is gone, but we may strike a fresh one. We'll know it 
when we see it. " 

The friendly look came back to the Indian's face. "You 
are Nibowaka." 

They had not gone half a mile before they found a fresh 
track — their old acquaintance. Even Skookum showed 
his hostile recognition. And in a few minutes it led them 
to a shanty. They slipped off their snowshoes, and hung 
them in a tree. Quonab opened the door without knock- 

183 



Rolf in the Woods 

ing. They entered, and in a moment were face to face 
with a lanky, ill-favoured white man that all three, includ- 
ing Skookum, recognized as Hoag, the man they had met 
at the trader's. 

That worthy made a quick reach for his rifle, but Quonab 
covered him and said in tones that brooked no discussion, 
^'Sitdownl" 

Hoag did so, sullenly, then growled: "All right; my 
partners will be here in ten minutes." 

Rolf was startled. Quonab and Skookum were not. 

*^We settled your partners up in the hills," said the 
former, knowing that one bluff was as good as another. 
Skookum growled and sniffed at the enemy's legs. The 
prisoner made a quick move with his foot. 

"You kick that dog again and it's your last kick," said 
the Indian. 

"Who's kicked yer dog, and what do you mean coming 
here with yer cutthroat ways? You'll find there's law in 
this country before yer through," was the answer. 

"That's what we're looking for, you trap robber, you 
thief. We're here first to find our traps; second to tell you 
this: the next time you come on our line there'll be meat for 
the ravens. Do you suppose I don't know them? and the 
Indian pointed to a large pair of snowshoes with long heels 
and a repair lashing on the right frame. "See that blue 
yarn," and the Indian matched it with a blue sash hanging 
to a peg. 

"Yes, them belongs to Bill Hawkins; he'll be 'round in 
five minutes now." 

The Indian made a gesture of scorn; then turning to Rolf 

184 



The Enemy^s Fort 

said: "Look 'round for our traps." Rolf made a thorough 
search in and about the shanty and the adjoining shed. 
He found some traps but none with his mark; none of a 
famiHar make even. 

"Better hunt for a squaw and papoose," sneered Hoag, 
who was utterly puzzled by the fact that now Rolf was 
obviously a white lad. 

But all the search was vain. Either Hoag had not I 

stolen the traps or had hidden them elsewhere. The only 
large traps they found were two of the largest size for taking 
bear. 

Hoag's torrent of bad language had been quickly checked 
by the threat of turning Skookum loose on his legs, and he 
looked such a grovelling beast that presently the visitors 
decided to leave him with a warning. 

The Indian took the trapper's gun, fired it off out of 
doors, not in the least perturbed by the possibiHty of its 
being heard by Hoag's partners. He knew they were imag- ^ . \ly 

inary. Then changing his plan, he said ''Ugh! You -C \Mj^^. 
find your gun in half a mile on our trail. But don't come v 1 t y^i f. 
farther and don't let me see the snowshoe trail on the 
divide again. Them ravens is awful hungry." 
• Skookum, to his disappointment, was called off and, 
taking the trapper's gun for a time, they left it in a bush 
and made for their own country. 



^w 




I8S 



XLII 

Skoofcum^s Panther 

WHY are there so few deer tracks now? " 
" Deer yarded for winter/' replied the Indian; 
"no travel in deep snow." 

"We'll soon need another," said Rolf, which unfor- 
tunately was true. They could have killed many deer in 
early winter, when the venison was in fine condition, but 
they had no place to store it. Now they must get it as 
they could, and of course it was thinner and poorer every 
week. 

They were on a high hill some days later. There was a 
clear view and they noticed several ravens circling and 
swooping. 

"Maybe dead deer; maybe deer yard," said the Indian. 

It was over a thick, sheltered, and extensive cedar swamp 
near the woods where last year they had seen so many deer, 
and they were not surprised to find deer tracks in numbers, 
as soon as they got into its dense thicket. 

A deer yard is commonly supposed to be a place in which 
the deer have a daily "bee" at road work all winter long and 
deliberately keep the snow hammered down so they can run 
on a hard surface ever3rwhere within its limits. The fact is, 
the deer gather in a place where there is plenty of food and 

i86 



Sfcookum^s Panther 

good shelter. The snow does not drift here, so the deer, by 
continually moving about, soon make a network of tracks 
in all directions, extending them as they must to seek more 
food. They may, of course, leave the yard at any time, 
but at once they encounter the dreaded obstacle of deep, 
soft snow in which they are helpless. 

Once they reached the well-worn trails, the hunters took 
off their snowshoes and went gently on these deer paths. 
They saw one or two disappearing forms, which taught 
them the thick cover was hiding many more. They made 
for the sound of the ravens, and found that the feast of the 
sable birds was not a deer but the bodies of three, quite 
recently killed. 

Quonab made a hasty study of the signs and said, 
"Panther." 

Yes, a panther, cougar, or mountain lion also had found 
the deer yard; and here he was living, like a rat in a grocer 
shop with nothing to do but help himself whenever he felt 
like feasting. 

Pleasant for the panther, but hard on the deer; for the 
killer is wasteful and will often kill for the joy of murder. 

Not a quarter of the carcasses lying here did he eat; he 
was feeding at least a score of ravens, and maybe foxes, 
martens, and lynxes as well. 

Before killing a deer, Quonab thought it well to take a 
quiet prowl around in hopes of seeing the panther. Skoo- 
kum was turned loose and encouraged to display his talents. 

Proud as a general with an ample and obedient follow- 
ing, he dashed ahead, carrying fresh dismay among the 
deer, if one might judge from the noise. Then he found 

187 




Rolf in the Woods 

some new smell of excitement, and voiced the new thrill 
in a new sound, one not unmixed with fear. At length 
his barking was far away to the west in a rocky part of the 
woods. Whatever the prey, it was treed, for the voice 
kept one place. 

The hunters followed quickly and found the dog yap- 
ping furiously under a thick cedar. The first thought 
was of porcupine; but a nearer view showed the game to 
be a huge panther on the ground, not greatly excited, dis- 
daining to climb, and taking little notice of the dog, ex- 
cept to curl his nose and utter a hissing kind of snarl when 
the latter came too near, 
f ' ] \\\¥/ / "^^^ ^^ arrival of the hunters gave a new colour to the 
I '• ilr.^Av^ picture. The panther raised his head, then sprang up a 
W ^ ^ .^ large tree and ensconced himself on a fork, while the valor- 
i / *' ^^^ °^^ Skookum reared against the trunk, threatening loudly 
I / Inj to come up and tear him to pieces. 

■ This was a rare find and a noble chance to conserve 

their stock of deer, so the hunters went around the tree 
seeking for a fair shot. But every point of view had some 
serious obstacle. It seemed as though the branches had 
been told off to guard the panther's vitals, for a big one 
always stood in the bullet's way. 

After vainly going around, Quonab said to Rolf: "Hit 
Mm with something, so he'll move." 

Rolf always was a good shot with stones, but he found 
none to throw. Near where they stood, however, was 
an unfreezing spring, and the soggy snow on it was easily 
packed into a hard, heavy snowball. Rolf threw it straight, 
swift, and by good luck it hit the panther square on the 

i88 




Sfcoofcum^s Panther 

nose and startled him so that he sprang right out of the 
tree and flopped into the snow. 

Skookum was on him at once, but got a slap on the ear 
that changed his music, and the panther bounded away 
out of sight with the valiant Skookum ten feet behind, 
whooping and yeUing Hke mad. 

It was annoyance rather than fear that made that pan- 
ther take to a low tree while Skookum boxed the compass, 
and made a beaten dog path all around him. The hunters 
approached very carefully now, making Uttle sound and 
keeping out of sight. The panther was wholly engrossed 
with observing the astonishing impudence of that dog, 
when Quonab came quietly up, leaned his rifle against a 
tree and fired. The smoke cleared to show the panther 
on his back, his legs convulsively waving in the air, and 
Skookum tugging valiantly at his tail. 

"My panther," he seemed to say; "whatever would you 
do without me? " 

A panther in a deer yard is much like a wolf shut up in 
a sheepfold. He would probably have killed all the deer 
that winter, though there were ten times as many as he 
needed for food; and getting rid of him was a piece of good 
luck for hunters and deer, while his superb hide made a 
noble trophy that in years to come had unexpected places 
of honour. 



189 



I V 



y 



xLm 

Sunday in the Woods 

ROLF still kept to the tradition of Sunday, and 
Quonab had in a manner accepted it. It was a 
- curious fact that the red man had far more 
toleration for the white man's reUgious ideas than the 
white man had for the red's. 

Quonab 's songs to the sun and the spirit, or his burning of 
a tobacco pinch, or an animal's whiskers were to Rolf 
but harmless nonsense. Had he given them other names, 
calling them hymns and incense, he would have been much 
nearer respecting them. He had forgotten his mother's 
teaching: ''If any man do anything sincerely, believing that 
thereby he is worshipping God, he is worshipping God. " 
He disliked seeing Quonab use an axe or a gun on Sunday, 
and the Indian, reaHzing that such action made ''evil medi- 
cine" for Rolf, practically abstained. But Rolf had not 
yet learned to respect the red yarns the Indian hung from 
a deer's skull, though he did come to understand that he 
must let them alone or produce bad feeling in camp. 

Sunday had become a day of rest and Quonab made it 
also a day of song and remembrance. 

They were sitting one Sunday night by thb fire in the 
cabin, enjoying the blaze, while a storm rattled on the 

190 



Sunday in the Woods 



window and door. A white-footed mouse, one of a family 
that lived in the shanty, was trying how close he could 
come to Skookum's nose without being caught, while Rolf 
looked on. Quonab was lying back on a pile of deer skins, 
with his pipe in his mouth, his head on the bunk, and his 
hands clasped back of his neck. 

There was an atmosphere of content and brotherly 
feeling; the evening was young, when Rolf broke silence: 

"Were you ever married, Quonab?" 

"Ugh," was the Indian's affirmative. 

"Where?" 

"Myanos." 

Rolf did not venture more questions, but left the in- 
fluence of the hour to work. It was a moment of delicate 
poise, and Rolf knew a touch would open the door or 
double bar it. He wondered how he might give that touch 
as he wished it. Skookum still slept. Both men watched 
the mouse, as, with quick movements it crept about. 
Presently it approached a long birch stick that stood up 
against the wall. High hanging was the song-drum. Rolf 
wished Quonab would take it and let it open his heart, but 
he dared not offer it; that might have the exact wrong 
effect. Now the mouse was behind the birch stick. Then 
Rolf noticed that the stick if it were to fall would strike 
a drying line, one end of which was on the song-drum peg. 
So he made a dash at the mouse and displaced the stick; 
the jerk it gave the line sent the song-drum with hollow 
bumping to the ground. The boy stooped to replace it; 
as he did, Quonab grunted and Rolf turned to see his 
hand stretched for the drum. Had Rolf officiously offered 

191 



,r 



/ 






Rolf in the Woods 

it, it would have been refused; now the Indian took it, 
tapped and warmed it at the fire, and sang a song of the 
Wabanaki. It was softly done, and very low, but Rolf 
was close, for almost the first time in any long rendition, 
and he got an entirely new notion of the red music. The 
singer's face brightened as he tummed and sang with 
peculiar grace notes and throat warbles of ''Kaluscap's 
war with the magi," and the spirit of his people, rising to 
the sweet magic of melody, came shining in his eyes. He 
sang the lovers' song, "The Bark Canoe."* 

"While the stars shine and falls the dew, 
I seek my love in bark canoe." 

And then the cradle song, "The Naked Bear Shall Never 
Catch Thee." 

When he stopped, he stared at the fire; and after a long 
pause Rolf ventured, "My mother would have loved your 
songs." 

Whether he heard or not, the warm emanation surely 
reached the Indian, and he began to answer the question 
of an hour before: 

"Her name was Gamowini, for she sang like the sweet 
night bird at Asamuk. I brought her ; from her father's 
house at Saugatuck. We lived at Myanos. She made 
beautiful baskets and moccasins. I fished and trapped; we 
had enough. Then the baby came. He had big round eyes, 
so we called him Wee- wees, ^our little owl,' and we were 
very happy. When Gamowini sang to her baby, the world 
seemed full of sun. One day when Wee-wees could walk 
she left him with me and she went to Stamford with some 



*See F. R. Burton's "American Primitive Music." 

192 



Sunday in the Woods 

baskets to sell. A big ship was in the harbour. A man from 
the ship told her that his sailors would buy all her baskets. 
She had no fear. On the ship they seized her for a runaway 
slave, and hid her till they sailed away. 

" When she did not come back I took Wee-wees on my 
shoulder and went quickly to Stamford. I soon found out 
a little, but the people did not know the ship, or whence she 
came, or where she went, they said. They did not seem to 
care. My heart grew hotter and wilder. I wanted to 
fight. I would have killed the men on the dock, but they 
were many. They bound me and put me in jail for three 
months. When I came out Wee-wees was dead. They 
did not care. I have heard nothing since. Then I went 
to live under the rock, so I should not see our first home. 
I do not know; she may be alive. But I think it killed her 
to lose her baby." , \ 

The Indian stopped; then rose quickly. His face was 
hard set. He stepped out into the snowstorm and the 
night. Rolf was left alone with Skookum. 

Sad, sad, everything seemed sad in his friend's life, and 
Rolf, brooding over it with wisdom beyond his years, could 
not help asking: "Had Quonab and Gamowini been white 
folk, would it have happened so? Would his agony have 
been received with scornful indifference? Alas! he knew 
it would not. He realized it would have been a very 
different tale, and the sequent questions that would not 
down, were, "Will this bread cast on the waters return after 
many days?" "Is there a God of justice and retribu- 
tion?" "On whom will the flail of vengeance fall for all 
these abominations? " 

193 



[Rolf in the Woods 

Two hours later the Indian returned. No word was 
spoken as he entered. He was not cold. He must have 
walked far. Rolf prepared for bed. The Indian stooped, 
picked up a needle from the dusty ground, one that had 
been lost the day before, silently handed it to his com- 
panion, who gave only a recognizant "Hm," and dropped 
it into the birch-bark box. 




194 



XLIV 
The Lost Bundle of Furs 

THERE had been a significant cessation of robbery 
on their trap line after the inconclusive visit to 
the enemy's camp. But a new and extreme ex- 
asperation arose in the month of March^ when the alterna- 
tion of thaw and frost had covered the snow with a hard 
crust that rendered snowshoes unnecessary and made it 
easy to run anywhere and leave no track. 

They had gathered up a fisher and some martens before 
they reached the beaver pond. They had no beaver traps 
now, but it was interesting to call and see how many of the 
beavers were left, and what they were doing. 

Bubbling springs on the bank of the pond had made open 
water at several places, now that the winter frost was 
weakening. Out of these the beavers often came, as was 
plainly seen in the tracks, so the trappers approached them 
carefully. 

They were scrutinizing one of them from behind a log, 
Quonab with ready gun, Rolf holding the unwilling Skoo- 
kum, when the familiar broad, flat head appeared. A 
large beaver swam around the hole, snijffed and looked, then 
silently climbed the bank, evidently making for a certain 
aspen tree that he had already been cutting. He was in 

195 



Rolf in the Woods 

easy range, and the gunner was about to fire when Rolf 
pressed his arm and pointed. Here, wandering through 
the wood, came a large lynx. It had not seen or smelt any 
of the living creatures ahead, as yet, but speedily sighted 
the beaver now working away to cut down his tree. 

As a pelt, the beaver was worth more than the lynx, but 
the naturalist is strong in most hunters, and they watched 
to see what would happen. 

The lynx seemed to sink into the ground, and was lost to 
sight as soon as he knew of a possible prey ahead. And 
now he began his stalk. The hunters sighted him once as 
he crossed a level opening in the snow. He seemed less than 
four inches high as he crawled. Logs, ridges, trees, or twigs, 
afforded ample concealment, till his whiskers appeared 
in a thicket within fifteen feet of the beaver. 

All this was painfully exciting to Skookimi, who, though 
he could not see, could get some thrilling whiffs, and he 
strained forward to improve his opportunities. The sound 
of this slight struggle caught the beaver's ear. It stopped 
work, wheeled, and made for the water hole. The lynx 
sprang from his ambush, seized the beaver by the back, 
and held on; but the beaver was double the lynx's weight, 
the bank was steep and slippery, the struggling animals 
kept rolling down hill, nearer and nearer the hole. Then, 
on the very edge, the beaver gave a great plunge, and 
splashed into the water with the lynx clinging to its back. 
At once they disappeared, and the hunters rushed to the 
place, expecting them to float up and be an easy prey; but 
they did not float. At length it was clear that the pair had 
gone under the ice, for in water the beaver was master. 

196 



The Lost Bundle of Furs 

After five minutes it was certain that the lynx must be 
dead. Quonab cut a sapling and made a grappler. He 
poked this way and that way under the ice, until at length 
he felt something soft. With the hatchet they cut a hole 
over the place and then dragged out the body of the lynx. 
The beaver, of course, escaped and was probably Httle the 
worse. 

While Quonab skinned the catch, Rolf prowled around 
the pond and soon came running back to tell of a remark- 
able happening. 

At another open hole a beaver had come out, wandered 
twenty yards to a mound which he had castorized, then 
passed several hard wood trees to find a large poplar or 
aspen, the favourite food tree. This he had begun to 
fell with considerable skill, but for some strange reason, 
perhaps because alone, he had made a miscalculation, 
and when the tree came crashing down, it had fallen 
across his back, killed him, and pinned him to the 
ground. 

It was an easy matter for the hunters to remove the log 
and secure his pelt, so they left the beaver pond, richer 
than they had expected. 

Next night, when they reached their half-way shanty, 
they had the best haul they had taken on this line since 
the memorable day when they got six beavers. 

The morning dawned clear and bright. As they break- 
fasted, they noticed an extraordinary gathering of ravens 
far away to the north, beyond any country they had 
visited. At least twenty or thirty of the birds were sail- 
ing in great circles high above a certain place, uttering a 

197 



Rolf in the Woods 

deep, sonorous croak, from time to time. Occasionally 
one of the ravens would dive down out of sight. 

"Why do they fly above that way?" 

"That is to let other ravens know there is food here. 
Their eyes are very good. They can see the signal ten 
miles away, so all come to the place. My father told me 
that you can gather all the ravens for twenty miles by 
leaving a carcass so they can see it and signal each other. " 

"Seems as if we should look into that. Maybe another 
panther," was Rolf's remark. 

The Indian nodded; so leaving the bundle of furs in a 
safe place with the snowshoes, that they carried on a 
chance, they set out over the hard crust. It was two or 
three miles to the ravens,' gathering, and, as before, it 
proved to be over a cedar brake where was a deer yard. 

Skookum knew all about it. He rushed into the woods, 
filled with the joy of martial glory. But speedily came 
running out again as hard as he could, yelling "yow, yow, 
yow!" for help, while swiftly following behind him were a 
couple of gray wolves. Quonab waited till they were 
within forty yards; then, seeing the men, the wolves slowed 
up and veered; Quonab fired; one of the wolves gave a 
little, dog-like yelp. Then they leaped into the bushes 
and were lost to view. 

A careful study of the snow showed one or two trifling 
traces of blood. In the deer yard they found at least a 
dozen carcasses of deer killed by the wolves, but none very 
recent. They saw but few deer and nothing more of the 
wolves, for the crust had made all the country easy, and 
both kinds fled before the hunters. 

198 



The Lost Bundle of Furs 

Exploring a lower level of willow country in hopes of 

finding beaver delayed them, and it was afternoon when ^ — j 

they returned to the half-way shanty, to find everything <^_ .^_^^^^ ^ } 
as they left it, except that their pack of furs had totally dis- * ^^^HS=^^ 
appeared. 

Of course, the hard crust gave no sign of track. Their 
first thought was of the old enemy, but, seeking far and 
near for evidence, they found pieces of an ermine skin, 
and a quarter mile farther, the rest of it, then, at another 
place, fragments of a muskrat's skin. Those made it 
look like the work of the trapper's enemy, the wolverine, 
which, though rare, was surely found in these hills. Yes! 
there was a wolverine scratch mark, and here another 
piece of the rat skin. It was very clear who was the 
thief. 

'^He tore up the cheapest ones of the lot anyway," 
said Rolf. 

Then the trappers stared at each other significantly — 
only the cheap ones destroyed; why should a wolverine show 
such discrimination? There was no positive sign of wolver- 
ine; in fact, the icy snow gave no sign of anything. There 
was little doubt that the torn furs and the scratch marks 
were there to mislead; that this was the work of a human 
robber, almost certainly Hoag. 

He had doubtless seen them leave in the morning, and 
it was equally sure, since he had had hours of start, he 
would now be far away. 

''Ugh! Give him few days to think he safe, then I 
follow and settle all, " and this time the Indian clearly 
meant to end the matter. 

199 



XLV 

The Subjugation of Hoag 

A feller as weeps for pity and never does a finger-tap to kelp is 'bout 
as much use as an overcoat on a drowning man — Sayings of Si Sylvanru. ■ 

SOME remarkable changes of weather made some 
remarkable changes in their plan and saved their 
enemy from immediate molestation. For two 
weeks it was a succession of thaws and there was much 
rain. The lake was covered with six inches of water; the 
river had a current above the ice, that was rapidly eating 
the latter away. Everywhere there were slush and wet 
snow that put an end to travel and brought on the spring 
with a rush. 

Each night there was, indeed, a trifling frost, but each 
day's sun seemed stronger, and broad, bare patches of 
ground appeared on all sunny slopes. 

On the first crisp day the trappers set out to go the 
rounds, knowing full well that this was the end of the 
season. Henceforth for six months deadfall and snare 
would lie idle and unset. 

They went their accustomed line, carrying their snow- 
shoes, but rarely needing them. Then they crossed a 
large track to which Quonab pointed, and grunted affirma- 

200 



The Subjugation of Hoag 

lively as Rolf said "Bear?'' Yes! the bears were about 
once more; their winter sleep was over. Now they were 
fat and the fur was yet prime; in a month they would 
be thin and shedding. Now is the time for bear hunting 
with either trap or dog. 

Doubtless Skookum thought the party most fortunately 
equipped in the latter respect, but no single dog is enough 
to bay a bear. There must be three or four to bother him 
behind, to make him face about and fight; one dog merely 
makes him run faster. 

They had no traps, and knowing that a spring bear is 
a far traveller, they made no attempt to follow. 

The deadfalls yielded two martens, but one of them was 
spoiled by the warm weather. They learned at last that 
the enemy had a trap-line, for part of which he used their 
deadfalls. He had been the rounds lately and had profited 
at least a Httle by their labours. 

The track, though two days old, was not hard to follow, 
either on snow or ground. Quonab looked to the lock of 
his gun; his lower lip tightened and he strode along. 

"What are you going to do, Quonab? Not shoot?" 

"When I get near enough," and the dangerous look in 
the red man's eye told Rolf to be quiet and follow. 

In three miles they passed but three of his marten 
traps — very lazy trapping — and then found a great 
triangle of logs by a tree with a bait and signs enough to 
tell the experienced eye that, in that corner, was hidden 
a huge steel trap for bear. 

They were almost too late in restraining the knowledge- 
hunger of Skookum. They went on a mile or two and 

201 



Rolf in the Woods 

realized in so doing that, however poor a trapper the 
enemy might be, he was a good tramper and knew the 
country. 

At sundown they came to their half-way shelter and put 
up there for the night. Once when Rolf went out to 
ghmpse the skies before turning in, he heard a far tree 
creaking and wondered, for it was dead calm. Even 
Skookum noticed it. But it was not repeated. Next 
morning they went on. 

There are many quaint sounds in the woods at all times, 
the rasping of trees, at least a dozen different calls by 
jays, twice as many by ravens, and occasional notes from 
chicadees, grouse, and owls. The quadrupeds in general 
are more silent, but the red squirrel is ever about and 
noisy, as well as busy. 

Far-reaching sounds are these echoes of the woods — 
some of them very far. Probably there were not five 
minutes of the day or night when some weird, woodland 
chatter, scrape, crack, screech, or whistle did not reach 
the keen ears of that ever-alert dog. That is, three hundred 
times a day his outer ear submitted to his inner ear some re- 
port of things a-doing, which same report was as often 
for many days disregarded as of no interest or value. But 
this did not mean that he missed anything; the steady 
tramp, tramp of their feet, while it dulled all sounds for 
the hunter, seemed to have no effect on Skookum. Again 
the raspy squeal of some far tree reached his inmost brain, 
and his hair rose as he stopped and gave a low "woof." 

The hunters held still; the wise ones always do, when a 
dog says "Stop!" They waited. After a few minutes 

202 




The Subjugation of Hoag 

it came again — merely the long-drawn creak of a tree 
bough, wind-rubbed on its neighbour. 

And yet, "Woof, woof, woof," said Skookum, and ran 
ahead. 

"Come back, you Httle fool!'^ cried Rolf. 

But Skookum had a mind of his own. He trotted ahead, /. hiu.ii « 
then stopped, paused, and sniffed at something in the — i ,] 

snow. The Indian picked it up. It was the pocket jack- 
screw that every bear trapper carries to set the powerful 
trap, and without which, indeed, one man cannot manage 
the springs. 

He held it up with "Ugh! Hoag in trouble now." Clearly 
the rival trapper had lost this necessary tool. (Jiij^-^iiiil^ 

But the finding was an accident. Skookum pushed on. 
They came along a draw to a little hollow. The dog, 
far forward, began barking and angrily baying at some- 
thing. The men hurried to the scene to find on the snow, 
fast held in one of those devilish engines called a bear trap 
— the body of their enemy — Hoag, the trapper, held by 
a leg, and a hand in the gin he himself had been setting, 

A fierce light played on the Indian's face. Rolf was 
stricken with horror. But even while they contemplated 
the body, the faint cry was heard again coming from it. 

"He's alive; hurry!" cried Rolf. The Indian did not 
hurry, but he came. He had vowed vengeance at sight; 
why should he haste to help? 

The implacable iron jaws had clutched the trapper by 
one knee and the right hand. The first thing was to free 
him. How? No man has power enough to force that 
spring. But the jackscrew! 

203 



Rolf in the Woods 

*'Quonab, help him! For God^s sake, come!" cried 
Rolf in agony, forgetting their feud and seeing only the 
tortured, dying man. 

The Indian gazed a moment, then rose quickly, and put 
on the jackscrew. Under his deft fingers the first spring 
went down, but what about the other? They had no 
other screw. The long buckskin line they always carried 
was quickly lashed round and round the down spring to 
hold it. Then the screw was removed and put on the other 
spring; it bent, and the Jaws hung loose. The Indian 
forced them wide open, drew out the mangled limbs, and 
the trapperwas free, but so near death, it seemed they were 
too late. 

Rolf spread his coat. The Indian made a fire. In 
fifteen minutes they were pouring hot tea between the 
victim's lips. Even as they did, his feeble throat gave 
out again the long, low moan. 

The weather was mild now. The prisoner was not 
actually frozen, but numbed and racked. Heat, hot tea, 
kindly rubbing, and he revived a little. 

At first they thought him dying, but in an hour he 
recovered enough to talk. In feeble accents and broken 
phrases they learned the tale : 

"Yest — m-m-m. Yesterday — no; two or three 
days back — m-m-m-m-m — I dunno; I was a goin' — 
roun' me traps — me bear traps. Didn't have no luck; 
m-m-m (yes, I'd like another sip; ye ain't got no whiskey — 
no?) m-m-m. Nothing in any trap, and when I come to 
this un — oh-h — m-m; I seen — the bait was stole by 
birds, an' the pan — m-m-m; an' the pan, m-ih-m — (yes, 

204 



The Subjugation of Hoag 

that's better) — an' the pan laid bare. So I starts in to 
cover it with — ce-ce-dar; the on'y thing I c'd get — 
m-m-m-m — wuz leanin' over — to fix tother side — when 
me foot slipped on — the — ice — everything was icy — 
an' — m-m-m-m — I lost — me balance — me knee hit 
the pan — Lord — how I suffer ! — m-m-m — an' 
it grabbed me — knee an' — h-h-hand — " His voice 
died to a whisper and ceased; he seemed sinking. 

Quonab got up to hold him. Then, looking at Rolf, the 
Indian shook his head as though to say all was over; but 
the poor wretch had a woodman's constitution, and in 
spite of a mangled, dying body, he revived again. They 
gave him more hot tea, and again he began in a whisper: 

*'I hed one arm free an' — an' — an' — I might — a — 
got out — m-m — but I hed no wrench — I lost it — 
some place — m-m-m-m. 

*'Then — I yelled — I dun — no — maybe some un 
might hear — it kin-kin-kinder eased me — to yell — 
m-m-m. 

''Say — make that yer dog keep — away — will yer — 
I dunno — it seems like a week — must a fainted some — 
m-m-m — I yelled — when I could." 

There was a long pause. Rolf said, "Seems to me I 
heard you last night, when we were up there. And the 
dog heard you, too. Do you want me to move that leg 
around?" 

''M-m-m — yeh — that's better — say, you air — 
white — ain't ye? Ye won't leave me — coz — I done 
some mean things — m-m-m. Ye won't, will ye?" 

"No, you needn't a worry — we'll stay by ye." 

205 



Rolf in the Woods 

Then he muttered, they could not tell what. He closed 
his eyes. After long silence he looked around wildly 
and began again: 

"Say — I done you dirt — but don't leave me — don't 
leave me." Tears ran down his face and he moaned 
piteously. ''I'll — make it — right — you're white, ain't 
ye?" 

Quonab rose and went for more firewood. The trapper 
whispered, "I'm scared o' him — now — he'll do me — 
say, I'm jest a poor ole man. If I do live — through — 
this — m-m-m-m — I'll never walk again. I'm crippled 
sure." 

It was long before he resumed. Then he began: "Say, 
what day is it — Friday! — I must — been two days in 
there — m-m-m — I reckoned it was a week. When — 
the — dog came I thought it was wolves. Oh — ah, 
didn't care much — m-m-m. Say, ye won't leave me — 
coz — coz — I treated — ye mean. I — ain't had no 
I-l-luck." He went off into a stupor, but presently let 
out a long, startling cry, the same as that they had heard 
in the night. The dog growled; the men stared. The 
wretch's eyes were rolling again. He seemed delirious. 

Quonab pointed to the east, made the sun-up sign, 
and shook his head at the victim. And Rolf understood 
it to mean that he would never see the sunrise. But they 
were wrong. k ^ 

The long night passed in a struggle between death 
and the tough make-up of a mountaineer. The waxing 
light of dawn saw death defeated, retiring from the scene. 
As the sun rose high, the victim seemed to gain consider- 

206 



The Subjugation of Hoag 

ably in strength. There was no immediate danger of 
an end. 

Rolf said to Quonab: '^ Where shall we take him? 
Guess you better go home for the toboggan, and we'll 
fetch him to the shanty." 

But the invalid was able to take part in the conversation. 
"Say, don't take me there. Ah — want to go home. 
Tears like — I'd be better at home. My folks is out 
Moose River way. I'd never get out if I went in there," 
and by "there" he seemed to mean the Indian's lake, 
and glanced furtively at the unchanging countenance of 
the red man. 

"Have you a toboggan at your shanty?" asked Rolf. 

"Yes — good enough — it's on the roof — say," and 
he beckoned feebly to Rolf, "let him go after it — don't 
leave me — he'll kill me," and he wept feebly in his self 
pity. 

So Quonab started down the mountain — a sinewy 
man — a striding form, a speck in the melting distance. 



207 



XLVI 



Nursing Hoag 



IN TWO hours the red man reached the trapper's 
shanty, and at once, without hesitation or delicacy, 
set about a thorough examination of its contents. 
Of course there was the toboggan on the roof, and in 
fairly good condition for such a shiftless owner. 

There were bunches of furs hanging from the rafters, 
but not many, for fur- taking is hard work; and Quonab, 
looking suspiciously over them, was not surprised to see 
the lynx skin he had lost, easily known by the absence of 
wound and the fur still in points as it had dried from the 
wetting. In another bundle, he discovered the beaver 
that had killed itself, for there was the dark band across 
its back. 

The martens he could not be sure of, but he had a strong 
suspicion that most of this fur came out of his own traps. 

He tied Hoag's blankets on the toboggan, and hastened 
back to where he left the two on the mountain. 

Skookum met him long before he was near. Skookum 
did not enjoy Hoag's company. 

The cripple had been talking freely to Rolf, but the ar- 
rival of the Indian seemed to suppress him. 

With the wounded man on the toboggan, they set out. 

208 



Nursing Hoag 



The ground was bare in many places, so that the going was 
hard; but, fortunately, it was allj down hill, and four 
hours' toil brought them to the cabin. 

They put the sick man in his bunk; then Rolf set about 
preparing a meal, while Quonab cut wood. 

After the usual tea, bacon, and flour cakes, all were 
feeling refreshed. Hoag seemed much more like himself. 
He talked freely, almost cheerfully, while Quonab, with 
Skookum at his feet, sat silently smoking and staring into 
the fire. 

After a long silence, the Indian turned, looked straight 
at the trapper, and, pointing with his pipestem to the furs, 
said, ''How many is ours?'' 

Hoag looked scared, then sulky, and said: "I dunno 
what ye mean. I'm a awful sick man. You get me out 
to Lyons Falls all right, and ye can have the hull lot," 
and he wept. 

Rolf shook his head at Quonab, then turned to the 
sufferer and said: "Don't you worry; we'll get you out all 
right. Have you a good canoe? " 

"Pretty fair; needs a little fixing." 
* The night passed with one or two breaks, when the 
invalid asked for a drink of water. In the morning he 
was evidently recovering, and they began to plan for the 
future. i { 

He took the first chance of whispering to Rolf, "Can't 
you send him away? I'll be all right with you." Rolf 
said nothing. 

"Say," he continued, "say, young feller, what's yer 
name?" 

209 




Rolf in the Woods 

"Rolf Kittering.'' 

"Say, Rolf, you wait a week or ten days, and the ice 
'11 be out; then I'll be fit to travel. There ain't on'y a 
few carries between here an' Lyons Falls." 

After a long pause, due to Quonab's entry, he continued 
again: "Moose River's good canoeing; ye can get me 
out in five days; me folks is at Lyons Falls." He did 
not say that his folks consisted of a wife and boy that 
he neglected, but whom he counted on to nurse him 
now. 

Rolf was puzzled by the situation. 

"Say! I'll give ye all them furs if ye git me out." 
Rolf gave him a curious look — as much as to say, "Ye 
mean our furs." 

Again the conversation was ended by the entry of 
Quonab. 

Rolf stepped out, taking the Indian with him. They 
had a long talk, then, as Rolf reentered, the sick man 
began: 

"You stay by me, and git me out. I'll give ye my 
rifle" — then, after a short silence — "an' I'll throw in 
all the traps an' the canoe." 

"I'll stay by you," said Rolf, "and in about two weeks 
we'll take you down to Lyons Falls. I guess you can 
guide us." 

"Ye can have all them pelts," and again the trapper 
presented the spoils he had stolen, "an' you bet it's your 
rifle when ye get me out." 

So it was arranged. But it was necessary for Quonab 
to go back to their own cabin. Now what should he do? 



Nursing Hoag 

Carry the new lot of fur there, or bring the old lot here 
to dispose of all at Lyons Falls? 

Rolf had been thinking hard. He had seen the evil 
side of many men, including Hoag. To go among Hoag's 
people with a lot of stuff that Hoag might claim was 
running risks, so he said: 

"Quonab, you come back in not more than ten days. 
We'll take a few furs to Lyons Falls so we can get supplies. 
Leave the rest of them in good shape, so we can go out 
later to Warren's. We'll get a square deal there, and we 
don't know what at Lyon's." 

So they picked out the lynx, the beaver, and a 
dozen martens to leave, and making the rest into a pack, 
Quonab shouldered them, and followed by Skookum, 
trudged up the mountain and was lost to view in the 
woods. 

The ten days went by very slowly. Hoag was alter- 
nately querulous, weeping, complaining, unpleasantly 
fawning, or trying to insure good attention by presenting 
again and again the furs, the gun, and the canoe. 

Rolf found it pleasant to get away from the cabin when 
the weather was fine. One day, taking Hoag's gun, he 
travelled up the nearest stream for a mile, and came on a 
big beaver pond. Round this he scouted and soon dis- 
covered a drowned beaver, held in a trap which he recog- 
nized at once, for it had the ('' ' "') mark on the frame. 
Then he found an empty trap with a beaver leg in it, and 
another, till six traps were found. Then he gathered up 
the six and the beaver, and returned to the cabin to be 
greeted with a string of complaints: 

211 



Rolf in the Woods 

"Ye didn't ought to leave me like this. I'm paying ye 
well enough. I don't ax no favours," etc. 

'^See what I got," and Rolf showed the beaver. "An' 
see what I found;" then he showed the traps. "Queer, 
ain't it," he went on, "we had six traps just like them, 
and I marked the face just Hke these, and they all dis- 
appeared, and there was a snowshoe trail pointing this 
way. You haven't got any crooked neighbours about 
here, have you?" 

The trapper looked sulky and puzzled, and grumbled, 
"I bet it was Bill Hawkins done it"; then relapsed into 
silence. 





•5 > 






^' n 




212 



XLVII 
Hoag^s Home-coming 

When it comes to personal feelin's better let yer friends do the talkin* and 
jedgin'. A man can't handle his own case any more than a delirious doctor 
kin give hisself the right physic — Sayings of Si Sylvanne. 

THE coming of springtime in the woods is one of 
the gentlest, sweetest advents in the world. 
Sometimes there are heavy rains which fill all 
the little rivers with an overflood that quickly eats away 
the ice and snow, but usually the woodland streams opeu; 
slowly and gradually. Very rarely is there a spate, an 
upheaval, and a cataclysmal sweep that bursts the ice 
and ends its reign in an hour or two. That is the way 
of the large rivers, whose ice is free and floating. The 
snow in the forest melts slowly, and when the ice is at- 
tacked, it goes gradually, gently, without uproar. The 
spring comes in the woods with swelling of buds and a 
lengthening of drooping catkins, with honking of wild 
geese, and cawing of crows coming up from the lower 
countries to divide with their larger cousins, the ravens, 
the spoils of winter's killing. 

The small birds from the South appear with a few short 
notes of spring, and the pert chicadees that have braved 
it all winter, now lead the singing with their cheery "I 
told you so'* notes, till robins and blackbirds join in, and 

213 



Rolf in the Woods 



I 



with their more ambitious singing make all the lesser 
roundelays forgot. ■ 

Once the winter had taken a backward step spring found! 
it easy to turn retreat into panic and rout; and the ten 
days Quonab stayed away were days of revolutionary 
change. For in them semi-winter gave place to smiling 
spring, with all the snow-drifts gone, except perhaps in the 
shadiest hollows of the woods. 

It was a bright morning, and a happy one for Rolf 
when he heard the Indian's short ^'Ho," outside, and 
minute later had Skookum dancing and leaping abou 
him. On Hoag the effect was quite different. He wai 
well enough to be up, to hobble about painfully on a stick 
to be exceedingly fault-finding, and to eat three heart; 
meals a day; but the moment the Indian appeared, he 
withdrew into himself, and became silent and uneasy. Be- 
fore an hour passed, he again presented the furs, the gun 
the canoe, and the traps to Rolf, on condition that hi 
should get him out to his folks. 

All three were glad to set out that very day on thi 
outward trip to Lyons Falls. 

Down Little Moose River to Little Moose Lake and 
on to South Branch of Moose, then by the Main Moose, 
was their way. The streams were flush; there was plenty 
of water, and this fortunately reduced the number of 
carries; for Hoag could not walk and would not hobble. 
They sweat and laboured to carry him over every portage; 
but they covered the fifty miles in three days, and on the 
evening of the third, arrived at the Httle backwoods village 
of Lyons Falls. 

214 



Hoag*s Home-coming: 



The change that took place in Hoag now was marked 
and unpleasant. He gave a number of orders, where, 
the day before, he would have made whining petitions. 
He told them to ''land easy, and don't bump my canoe." 
He hailed the loungers about the mill with an effusiveness 
that they did not respond to. Their cool, "Hello, Jack, 
are you back?" was little but a passing recognition. One 
of them was persuaded to take Rolf's place in carrying 
Hoag to his cabin. Yes, his folks were there, but they 
did not seem overjoyed at his arrival. He whispered to 
the boy, who sullenly went out to the river and returned 
with the rifle, Rolf's rifle now, the latter supposed, and 
would have taken the bundle of furs had not Skookum 
sprung on the robber and driven him away from the canoe. 

And now Hoag showed his true character. ''Them's 
my furs and my canoe," he said to one of the mill hands, 
and turning to the two who had saved him, he said: "An' 
you two dirty, cutthroat, redskin thieves, you can get 
out of town as fast as ye know how, or I'll have ye jugged," 
and all the pent-up hate of his hateful nature frothed out 
in words insulting and unprintable. 

"Talks like a white man," said Quonab coldly. Rolf 
was speechless. To toil so devotedly, and to have such 
filthy, humiliating words for thanks! He wondered if 
even his Uncle Mike would have shown so vile a spirit. 

Hoag gave free rein to his tongue, and found in his pal, 
Bill Hawkins, one with ready ears to hear his tale of woe. 
The wretch began to feel himself frightfully ill-used. So, 
fired at last by the evermore lurid story of his wrongs, 
the "partner" brought the magistrate, so they could 

215 







11 



Rolf in the Woods 

swear out a warrant, arrest the two "outlaws," and es- 
pecially secure the bundle of ''Hoag's furs" in the canoe. 

Old Silas Sylvanne, the mill-owner and pioneer of the 
place, was also its magistrate. He was tall, thin, black- 
looking, a sort of Abe Lincoln in type, physically, and in 
some sort, mentally. He heard the harrowing tale of 
terrible crime, robbery, and torture, inflicted on poor 
harmless Hoag by these two ghouls in human shape; he 
listened, at first shocked, but little by little amused. 

"You don't get no warrant till I hear from the other 
side," he said. Rolf and Quonab came at call. The old 
pioneer sized up the two, as they stood, then, addressing 
Rolf, said: 

"Air you an Injun?" 

"No, sir." 

"Air you half-breed?" 

"No, sir." 

"Well, let's hear about this business," and he turned 
his piercing eyes full on the lad's face. 

Rolf told the simple, straight story of their acquaintance 
with Hoag, from the first day at Warren's to their arrival 
at the Falls. There is never any doubt about the truth 
of a true story, if it be long enough, and this true story, 
presented in its nakedness to the shrewd and kindly old 
hunter, trader, mill-owner and magistrate, could have only 
one effect. 

"Sonny," he said, slowly and kindly, "I know that ye 
have told me the truth. I believe every word of it. We 
all know that Hoag is the meanest cuss and biggest Har 
on the river. He's a nuisance, and always was. He only 

216 



Hoag^s Home-comingf 



promised to give ye the canoe and the rifle, and since he 
don't want to, we can't help it. About the trouble in the 
woods, you got two witnesses to his one, and ye got the 
furs and the traps; it's just as well ye left the other furs 
behind, or ye might have had to divide 'em; so keep them 
and call the hull thing square. We'll find ye a canoe to 
get out of this gay metropolis, and as to Hoag, ye needn't 
a-worry; his travelHng days is done." 

A man with a bundle of high-class furs is a man of means 
in any frontier town. The magistrate was trader, too, 
so they set about disposing of their furs and buying the 
supplies they needed. 

The day was nearly done before their new canoe was 
gummed and ready with the new suppHes. When dealing, 
old Sylvanne had a mild, quiet manner, and a pecuHar way 
of making funny remarks that led some to imagine he was 
"easy" in business; but it was usual to find at the end that 
he had lost nothing by his manners, and rival traders 
shunned an encounter with Long Sylvanne of the un- 
ruffled brow. 

When business was done — keen and complete — he 
said: "Now, I'm a goin' to give each of ye a present," and 
handed out two double-bladed jackknives, new things in 
those days, wonderful things, precious treasures in their 
eyes, sources of endless joy; and even had they known that 
one marten skin would buy a quart of them, their pleasant 
surprise and childish joy would not have been in any way 
tempered or alloyed. 

"Ye better eat with me, boys, an' start in the morning." 
So they joined the miller's long, continuous family, and 

217 




Rolf in the Woods 

shared his evening meal. Afterward as they sat for three 
hours and smoked on the broad porch that looked out on 
the river, old Sylvanne, who had evidently taken a fancy 
to Rolf, regaled them with a long, rambling talk on ''fel- 
lers and things," that was one of the most interesting Rolf 
had ever listened to. At the time it was simply amusing; 
it was not till years after that the lad realized by its effect 
on himself, its insight, and its hold on his memory, that 
Si Sylvanne's talk was real wisdom. Parts of it would 
not look well in print; but the rugged words, the uncouth 
Saxonism, the obscene phrase, were the mere oaken bucket 
in which the pure and precious waters were hauled to the 
surface. 

''Looked like he had ye pinched when that shyster 
got ye in to Lyons Falls. Wall, there's two bad places 
for Jack Hoag; one is where they don't know him at all, 
an' take him on his looks; an' t'other is where they know 
him through and through for twenty years, like we he v. 
A smart rogue kin put up a false front fer a year or maybe 
two, but given twenty year to try him, for and bye, summer 
an' winter, an' I reckon a man's make is pretty well showed 
up, without no dark corners left unexplored. 

"Not that I want to jedge him harsh, coz I don't know 
what kind o' maggots is eatin' his innards to make hinJ 
so ornery. I'm bound to suppose he has 'em, or her 
wouldn't act so dum like it. So I says, go slow and 
gentle before puttin' a black brand on any feller; as my 
mother used to say, never say a bad thing till ye ask, 'Is 
it true, is it kind, is it necessary?' An' I tell you, the 
older I git, the slower I jedge; when I wuz your age, I 

218 



Hoag^s Home-coming 

wuz a steel trap on a hair trigger, an' cocksure. I tell 
you, there ain't anythin' wiser nor a sixteen-year-old boy, 
'cept maybe a fifteen-year-old girl. 

"Ye'll genilly find, lad, jest when things looks about 
as black as they kin look, that's the sign of luck a-comin' 
your way, pervidin' ye hold steady, keep cool and kind; 
something happens every time to make it all easy. There's 
always a way, an' the stout heart will find it. 

"Ye may be very sure o' this, boy, yer never licked 
till ye think ye air; an' if ye won't think it, ye can't be 
licked. 

"It's just the same as being sick. I seen a lot o' doc- 
torin' in my day, and I'm forced to believe there ain't any 
sick folks 'cept them that thinks they air sick. 

"The older I git, the more I'm bound to consider that 
most things is inside, anyhow, and what's outside don't 
count for much. 

"So it stands to reason when ye play the game for 
what's inside, ye win over all the outside players. When 
ye done kindness to Hoag, ye mightn't a meant it, but ye 
was bracin' up the goodness in yerself, or bankin' it up 
somewher' on the trail ahead, where it was needed. And 
he was simply chawin' his own leg off, when he done ye 
dirt. I ain't much o' a prattlin' Christian, but I reckon 
as a cold-blooded, business proposition it pays to lend 
the neighbour a hand; not that I go much on gratitude. 
It's scarcer'n snowballs in xiell — which ain't the point; 
but I take notice there ain't any man'U hate ye more'n 
the feller that knows he's acted mean to ye. An' there 
ain't any feller more ready to fight yer battles than the 

219 



v 



Rolf in the Woods 



(V^O 




chap that by some dum accident has hed the luck to help 
ye, even if he only done it to spite some one else — which 
'minds me o' McCarthy's bull pup that saved the 
drowning kittens by mistake, and ever after was a fightin' 
cat protector, whereby he lost the chief joy o' his Hfe, 
which had been cat-killin\ An' the way they cured the 
cat o' eatin' squirrels was givin' her a litter o' squirrels 
to raise. 

*'I tell ye there's a lot o' common-sense an' kindness 
in the country, only it's so dum slow to git around; while 
the cussedness and meanness always acts like they felt the 
hell fire sizzlin' their hind-end whiskers, an' knowed they 
had jest so many minutes to live an' make a record. There's 
where a man's smart that fixes things so he kin hold out 
a long time, fer the good stuff in men's minds is what lasts; 
and the feller what can stay with it hez proved hisself 
by stayin'. How'd ye happen to tie up with the Injun, 
Rolf?" 

"Do ye want me to tell it long or short?" was the reply. 

*^Wall, short, fer a start," and Silas Sylvanne chuckled. 

So Rolf gave a very brief account of his early life. 

'Tretty good," said the miller; "now let's hear it long." 

And when he had finished, the miller said: "I've seen 
yer tried fer most everything that goes to make a man, 
Rolf, an' I hev my own notion of the results. You ain't 
goin' to live ferever in them hills. When ye've hed yer 
fling an' want a change, let me know." 

Early next day the two hunters paddled up the Moose 
River with a good canoe, an outfit of groceries, and a 
small supply of ready cash. 

220 



Hoag's Home-coming 

"Good-bye, lad, good-bye! Come back again and 
yell find we improve on acquaintance; an' don't forget 
I'm buying fur," was Si Sylvanne's last word. And as 
they rounded the point, on the home way, Rolf turned in 
the canoe, faced Quonab, and said: "Ye see there are 
some good white men left;" but the Indian neither blinked, 
nor moved, nor made a sound. 



r22i 



XLVIII 
RoIf^s Lesson in Trailing 

THE return journey was hard paddling against 
strong waters, but otherwise uneventful. Once 
over any trail is enough to fix it in the memory 
of a woodman. They made no mistakes and their loads 
were light, so the portages were scarcely any loss of time, 
and in two days they were back at Hoag's cabin. 

Of this they took possession. First, they gathered 
all things of value, and that was little since the furs and 
bedding were gone, but there were a few traps and some 
dishes. The stuff was made in two packs; now it was 
an overland journey, so the canoe was hidden in a cedar 
thicket, a quarter of a mile inland. The two were about 
to shoulder the packs, Quonab was lighting his pipe for a 
start, when Rolf said: 

^'Say, Quonab! that fellow we saw at the Falls claimed 
to be Hoag's partner. He may come on here and make 
trouble if we don't head him off. Let's burn her," and 
he nodded toward the shanty. 

^'Ugh!" was the reply. 

They gathered some dry brush and a lot of birch bark, 
piled them up against the wall inside, and threw plenty of 
firewood on this. With flint and steel Quonab made the 

222 



Rolf's Lesson in Trailing 

vital spark, the birch bark sputtered, the dry, resinous 
logs were easily set ablaze, and soon great volumes of 
smoke rolled from the door, the window, and the chimney; 
and Skookum, standing afar, barked pleasantly aloud. 

The hunters shouldered their packs and began the long, 
upward slope. In an hour they had reached a high, rocky 
ridge. Here they stopped to rest, and, far below them, 
marked with grim joy a twisted, leaning column ,of thick 
black smoke. 

That night they camped in the woods and next day 
rejoiced to be back again at their own cabin, their own lake, 
their home. 

Several times during the march they had seen fresh 
deer tracks, and now that the need of meat was felt, Rolf 
proposed a deer hunt. 

Many deer die every winter; some are winter-killed; 
many are devoured by beasts of prey, or killed by hunters; 
their numbers are at low ebb in April, so that now one 
could not count on finding a deer by roaming at random. 
It was a case for traiHng. 

Any one can track a deer in the snow. It is not very hard 
to follow a deer in soft ground, when there are no other 
deer about. But it is very hard to take one deer trail 
and follow it over rocky ground and dead leaves, never 
losing it or changing off, when there are hundreds of deer 
tracks running in all directions. 

Rolf's eyes were better than Quonab's, but experience 
counts for as much as eyes, and Quonab was leading. ^^^^,\^^h 

They picked out a big buck track that was fresh — ^u,',r ^)Jjf 

no good hunter kills a doe at this season. They ^^^^^ ^ ^ 

223 







Rolf in the Woods 

knew it for a buck, because of its size and the roundness 
of the toes. 

Before long, Rolf said: "See, Quonab, I want to learn 
this business; let me do the trailing, and you set me right 
if I get off the line." 

Within a hundred yards, Quonab gave a grunt and shook 
his head. Rolf looked surprised, for he was on a good, 
fresh track. 

Quonab said but one word, "Doe." 

Yes, a closer view showed the tracks to be a little nar- 
rower, a little closer together, and a little sharper than 
those he began with. 

Back went Rolf to the last marks that he was sure of, 
and plainly read where the buck had turned aside. 

For a time, things went along smoothly, Quonab and 
Skookum following Rolf. The last was getting very 
familiar with that stub hoof on the left foot. At length 
they came to the "fumet" or "sign"; it was all in one pile. 
That meant the deer had stood, so was unalarmed; and 
warm; that meant but a few minutes ahead. Now, they 
must use every precaution for this was the crux of the hunt. 

Of this much only they were sure — the deer was within 
range now, and to get him they must see him before he 
saw them. 

Skookum was leashed. Rolf was allowed to get well 
ahead, and crawling cautiously, a step at a time, he went, 
setting down his moccasined foot only after he had tried 
and selected a place. Once or twice he threw into the air 
a tuft of dry grass to make sure that the wind was right, 
and by slow degrees he reached the edge of a little opening. 

224 



RoIf^s Lesson in Trailing 



Across this he peered long, without entering it. Then he 
made a sweep with his hand and pointed, to let Quonab 
know the buck had gone across and he himself must go 
around. But he lingered still and with his eyes swept the 
near woods. Then, dim gray among the gray twigs, he 
saw a slight movement, so slight it might have been made 
by the tail of a tomtit. But it fixed his attention, and out 
of this gray haze he slowly made out the outline of a deer's 
head, antlers, and neck. A hundred yards away, but " take 
a chance when it comes" is hunter wisdom. Rolf glanced 
at the sight, took steady aim, fired, and down went the 
buck behind a log. Skookum whined and leaped high 
in his eagerness to see. Rolf restrained his impatience to 
rush forward, at once reloaded, then all three went quickly 
to the place. Before they were within fifty yards, the 
deer leaped up and bounded off. At seventy-five yards, it 
stood for a moment to gaze. Rolf fired again; again the 
buck fell down, but jumped to its feet and bounded away. 

They went to the two places, but found no blood. 
Utterly puzzled, they gave it up for the day, as already 
the shades of night were on the woods, and in spite of 
Skookum's voluble offer to solve and settle everything, they 
returned to the cabin. 

^'What do you make of it, Quonab?' 

The Indian shook his head, then: ^' Maybe touched 
his head and stunned him, first shot; second, wah! I 
not know." 

*' I know this, ^' said Rolf. ^' I touched him and I mean 
to get him in the morning." 

True to this resolve, he was there again at dawn, but 

225 




Rolf in the Woods 

examined the place in vain for a sign of blood. The red 
rarely shows up much on leaves, grass, or dust; but there 
are two kinds of places that the hunter can rely on as tell- 
tales — stones and logs. Rolf followed the deer track, 
now very dim, till at a bare place he found a speck of blood 
on a pebble. Here the trail joined onto a deer path, with 
so many tracks that it was hard to say which was the right 
one. But Rolf passed quickly along to a log that crossed 
the runway, and on that log he found a drop of dried-up 
blood that told him what he wished to know. 

Now he had a straight run of a quarter of a mile, and 
from time to time he saw a pecuHar scratching mark that 
puzzled him. Once he found a speck of blood at one of 
these scratches but no other evidence that the buck was 
touched. 

A wounded deer is pretty sure to work down hill, and 
Quonab, leaving Skookum with Rolf, climbed a lookout 
that might show whither the deer was heading. 

After another half mile, the deer path forked; there were 
buck trails on both, and Rolf could not pick out the one 
he wanted. He went a few yards along each, studying 
the many marks, but was unable to tell which was that of 
the wounded buck. 

Now Skookum took a share in it. He had always been 
forbidden to run deer and knew it was a contraband amuse- 
ment, but he put his nose to that branch of the trail that 
ran down hill, followed it for a few yards, then looked at 
Rolf, as much as to say: ''You poor nose-bhnd creature; 
don't you know a fresh deer track when you smell it? 
Here it is; this is where he went.'^ 

226 



> ^ 



RoIf^s Lesson in Trailing 

Rolf stared, then said, ''I believe he means it''; and 
followed the lower trail. Very soon he came to another 
scrape, and, just beyond it, found the new, velvet-covered 
antler of a buck, raw and bloody, and splintered at the 
base. 

From this on, the task was easier, as there were no other 
tracks, and this was pointing steadily down hill. 

Soon Quonab came striding along. He had not seen the 
buck, but a couple of jays and a raven were gathered in a 
thicket far down by the stream. The hunters quit the trail 
and made for that place. As they drew near, they found the 
track again, and again saw those curious scrapes. 

Every hunter knows that the blue jay dashing about 
a thicket means that hidden there is game of some kind, 
probably deer. Very, very slowly and silently they entered 
that copse. But nothing appeared until there was a rush 
in the thickest part and up leaped the buck. This was 
too much for Skookum. He shot forward like a wolf, 
fastened on one hind leg, and the buck went crashing head 
over heels. Before it could rise, another shot ended its 
troubles. And now a careful study shed the light desired. 
Rolf's first shot had hit the antler near the base, breaking 
it, except for the skin on one side, and had stimned the 
buck. The second shot had broken a hind leg. The 
scratching places he had made were efforts to regain 
the use of this limb, and at one of them the deer had fallen 
and parted the rag of skin by which the antler hung. 

It was RoK's first important trailing on the ground; 
it showed how possible it was, and how quickly he was 
learning the hardest of all the feats of woodcraft. 

227 



XLIX 
Rolf Gets Lost 

EVERY ONE who Kves in the big woods gets lost 
at some time. Yes, even Daniel Boone did 
sometimes go astray. And whether it is to end 
as a joke or a horrible tragedy depends entirely on the 
way in which the person takes it. This is, indeed, the 
grand test of a hunter and scout, the trial of his knowledge, 
his muscle, and, above everything, his courage; and, like 
all supreme trials, it comes without warning. 

The wonderful flocks of wild pigeons had arrived. 
For a few days in May they were there in millions, swarm- 
ing over the ground in long-reaching hordes, walking along, 
pecking and feeding, the rearmost flying on ahead, ever 
to the front. The food they sought so eagerly now was 
chiefly the seeds of the slippery elm, tiny nuts showered 
down on wings like broad-brimmed hats. And when the 
flock arose at some alarm, the sound was like that of the 
sea beach in a storm. 

There seemed to be most pigeons in the low country 
southeast of the lake, of course, because, being low, it 
had most elms. So Rolf took his bow and arrows, crossed 
in the canoe, and confidently set about gathering in a dozen 
or two for broilers. 

228 



Rolf Gets Lost 



It is amazing how well the game seems to gauge the 
range of your weapon and keep the exact safe distance. 
It is marvellous how many times you may shoot an arrow 
into a flock of pigeons and never kill one. Rolf went on 
and on, always in sight of the long, straggling flocks on 
the ground or in the air, but rarely within range of them. 
Again and again he fired a random shot into the distant 
mass, without success for two hours. Finally a pigeon 
was touched and dropped, but it rose as he ran forward, 
and flew ten yards, to drop once more. Again he rushed 
at it, but it fluttered out of reach and so led him on and 
on for about half an hour's breathless race, until at last he 
stopped, took deliberate aim, and killed it with an arrow. 

Now a peculiar wailing and squealing from the woods 
far ahead attracted him. He stalked and crawled for 
many minutes before he found out, as he should have 
known, that it was caused by a mischievous blue jay. 

At length he came to a spring in a low hollow, and leaving 
his bow and arrows on a dry log, he went down to get a 
drink 

As he arose, he found himself face to face with a doe and 
a fat, little yearHng buck, only twenty yards away. They 
stared at him, quite unalarmed, and, determining to add 
the yearhng to his bag, Rolf went back quietly to his 
bow and arrows. 

The deer were just out of range now, but inclined to 
take a curious interest in the hunter. Once when he 
stood still for a long time, they walked forward two or 
three steps; but whenever he advanced, they trotted 
farther away. 

229 




Rolf in tlie Woods 

To kill a deer with an arrow is quite a feat of woodcraft, 
and Rolf was keen to show his prowess; so he kept on with 
varying devices, and was continually within sight of the 
success that did not actually arrive. 

Then the deer grew wilder and loped away, as he entered 
another valley that was alive with pigeons. 

He was feeling hungry now, so he plucked the pigeon 
he had secured, made a fire with the flint and steel he 
always carried, then roasted the bird carefully on a stick, 
and having eaten it, felt ready for more travel. 

The day was cloudy, so he could not see the sun; but 
he knew it was late, and he made for camp. 

The country he found himself in was entirely strange 
to him, and the sun's whereabouts doubtful; but he knew 
the general line of travel and strode along rapidly toward 
the place where he had left the canoe. 

After two hours' tramping, he was surprised at not seeing 
the lake through the trees, and he added to his pace. 

Three hours passed and still no sign of the water. 

He began to think he had struck too far to the north; 
so corrected his course and strode along with occasional 
spells of trotting. But another hour wore away and no 
lake appeared. 

Then Rolf knew he was off his bearings. He climbed 
a tree and got a partial view of the country. To the right 
was a small hill. He made for that. The course led him 
through a hollow. In this he recognized two huge bass- 
wood trees, that gave him a reassuring sense. A little 
farther he came on a spring, strangely like the one he had 
left some hours ago. As he stooped to drink, he saw deer 

230 




Rolf Gets Lost 

tracks, then a human track. He studied it. Assuredly, 
it was his own track, though now it seemed on the south 
side instead of the north. He stared at the dead gray sky, 
hoping for sign of sun, but it gave no hint. He tramped 
off hastily toward the hill that promised a lookout. He 

went faster and faster. In half an hour the woods opened 

a little, then dipped. He hastened down, and at the hot- .::'--*••* 

tom found himself standing by the same old spring, though /i y' ' 

again it had changed its north bearing. / /'' 

He was stunned by this succession of blows. He knew .';' 1 
now he was lost in the woods; had been tramping in a v \ 
circle. ;\ **»..^ 

The spring whirled around him; it seemed now north \'\.^ 

and now south. His first impulse was to rush madly north- '**•.**** 

westerly, as he understood it. He looked at all the trees '** ^ 

for guidance. Most moss should be on the north side. 
It would be so, if all trees were perfectly straight and 
evenly exposed, but alas! none are so. All lean one way 
or another, and by the moss he could prove any given side 
to be north. He looked for the hemlock top twigs. Tradi- 
tion says they always point easterly; but now they differed 
among themselves as to which was east. 

Rolf got more and more worried. He was a brave boy, 
but grim fear came into his mind as he reahzed that he 
was too far from camp to be heard; the ground was too 
leafy for trailing him; without help he could not get away 
from that awful spring. His head began to swim, when 
all at once he remembered a bit of advice his guide had 
given him long ago: *' Don't get scared when you're lost. 
Hunger don't kill the lost man, and it ain't cold that does 

231 



Rolf in the Woods 

it; it's being afraid. Don't be afraid, and everything will! 
come out all right." i 

So, instead of running, Rolf sat down to think it over. ' 

''Now," said he, ^'I went due southeast all day from' 
the canoe." Then he stopped; Hke a shock it came to; 
him that he had not seen the sun all day. Had he really' 
gone southeast? It was a devastating thought, enough j 
to unhinge some men; but again Rolf said to himself] 
"Never mind, now; don't get scared, and it'll be all right.! 
In the morning the sky will be clear." ] 

As he sat pondering, a red squirrel chippered and scolded^ 
from a near tree; closer and closer the impudent creature 
came to sputter at the intruder. ' 

Rolf drew his bow, and when the blunt arrow dropped! 
to the ground, there also dropped the red squirrel, turned 
into acceptable meat. Rolf put this small game into hisi 
pocket, reaHzing that this was his supper. ] 

It would soon be dark now, so he prepared to spend the 
night. I 

While yet he could see, he gathered a pile of dry woodi 
into a sheltered hollow. Then he made a wind-break and! 
a bed of balsam boughs. FHnt, steel, tinder, and birchj 
bark soon created a cheerful fire, and there is no betteri 
comforter that the lone lost man can command. 

The squirrel roasted in its hide proved a passable supper, ' 
and Rolf curled up to sleep. The night would have been' 
pleasant and uneventful, but that it turned chilly, and! 
when the fire burnt low, the cold awakened him, so he hadj 
a succession of naps and fire-buildings. ! 

Soon after dawn, he heard a tremendous roaring,] 

232 ; 





For a while Rolf was sunk in despair 



Rolf Gets Lost 



it sent up was densely white and towered above the 
trees. 

Then painfully he hobbled and crawled to a place one 
hundred yards away, and made another smoke. Now all 
he could do was wait. 

A fat pigeon, strayed from its flock, sat on a bough above 
his camp, in a way to tempt Providence. Rolf drew a 
blunt arrow to the head and speedily had the pigeon in 
hand for some future meal. 

As he prepared it, he noticed that its crop was crammed 
with the winged seed of the sHppery elm, so he put them 
all back again into the body when it was cleaned, knowing 
well that they are a delicious food and in this case would 
furnish a welcome variant to the bird itself. 

An hour crawled by. Rolf had to go out to the far fire, 
for it was nearly dead. Instinctively he sought a stout 
stick to help him; then remembered how Hoag had man- 
aged with one leg and two crutches. *'Ho!" he exclaimed. 
''That is the answer — this is the 'way.' " 

Now his attention was fixed on all the possible crutches. 
The trees seemed full of them, but all at impossible 
heights. It was long before he found one that he could 
cut with his knife. Certainly he was an hour working at 
it; then he heard a sound that made his blood jump. 

(From far away in the north it came, faint but reaching; 
' ^'Ye-hoo-o." 

Rolf dropped his knife and listened with the instinc- 
tively open mouth that takes all pressure from the ear- 
drums and makes them keen. It came again : " Ye-hoo-o." 
No mistake now, and Rolf sent the ringing answer back: 

23 s 




Rolf in the Woods 

"Ye-hoo-o, ye-hoo-oy 

In ten minutes there was a sharp "yap, yap/* and 
Skookum bounded out of the woods to leap and bark 
around Rolf, as though he knew all about it; while a few 
minutes later, came Quonab striding. 

*'Ho, boy,'' he said, with a quiet smile, and took Rolf's 
hand. *'Ugh! That was good," and he nodded to the 
smoke fire. *^I knew you were in trouble." 

*' Yes," and Rolf pointed to the swollen ankle. 

The Indian picked up the lad in his arms and carried 
him back to the little camp. Then, from his light pack, 
he took bread and tea and made a meal for both. And, 
as they ate, each heard the other's tale. 

"I was troubled when you did not come back last night, 
for you had no food or blanket. I did not sleep. At 
dawn I went to the hill, where I pray, and looked away 
southeast where you went in the canoe. I saw nothing. 
Then I went to a higher hill, where I could see the northeast, 
and even while I watched, I saw the two smokes, so I 
knew my son was alive." 

"You mean to tell me I am northeast of camp? " 

"About four miles. I did not come very quickly, 
because I had to go for the canoe and travel here. 

"How do you mean by canoe?" said Rolf, in 
surprise. 

^"You are only half a mile from Jesup River," was the 
reply. "I soon bring you home." 

It was incredible at first, but easy of proof. With 
the hatchet they made a couple of serviceable crutches 
and set out together. 

236 



Rolf Gets Lost 

In twenty minutes they were afloat in the canoe; in 
an hour they were safely home again. 

And Rolf pondered it not a little. At the very moment 
of blackest despair, the way had opened, and it had been 
so simple, so natural, so effectual. Surely, as long as he 
lived, he would remember it — "There is always a way, 
and the stout heart will find it." 



i^ 



•^ ^ 



^4^ 



237 



Marketing the Fur 

IF ROLF had been at home with his mother, she would 
have rubbed his black and swollen ankle with goose 
grease. The medical man at Stamford would have 
rubbed it with a carefully prepared and secret ointment. 
His Indian friend sang a little crooning song and rubbed 
it with deer's fat. All different, and all good, because 
each did something to reassure the patient, to prove that 
big things were doing on his behalf, and each helped the 
process of nature by frequent massage. 

Three times a day, Quonab rubbed that blackened ankle. 
The grease saved the skin from injury, and in a week Rolf 
had thrown his crutches away. 

The month of May was nearly gone; June was at hand; 
that is, the spring was over. 

In all ages, man has had the impulse, if not the habit, of 
spring migration. Yielding to it he either migrated or 
made some radical change in his life. Most of the Adiron- 
dack men who trapped in the winter sought work on the 
log drives in spring; some who had families and a perma- 
nent home set about planting potatoes and plying the fish 
nets. Rolf and Quonab having neither way bpen, yet feel- 
ing the impulse, decided to go out to Warren's with the fur. 

238 



Marketing the Fur 

Quonab wanted tobacco — and a change. 

Rolf wanted a rifle, and to see the Van Trumpers — 
and a change. 

So June ist saw them all aboard, with Quonab steering 
at the stern, and Skookum bow-wowing at the bow, bound 
for the great centre of Warren's settlement — one store 
and three houses, very wide apart. 

There was a noble flush of water in the streams, and, 
thanks to their axe work in September, they passed down 
Jesup's River without a pause, and camped on the Hud- 
son that night, fully twenty-five miles from home. 

Long, stringing flocks of pigeons going north were the 
most numerous forms of life. But a porcupine on the 
bank and a bear in the water aroused Skookum to a pitch 
of frightful enthusiasm and vaulting ambition that he 
was forced to restrain. 

On the evening of the third day they landed at Warren's 
and found a hearty welcome from the trader, who left 
a group of loafers and came forward : 

"Good day to ye, boy. My, how ye have growed." 

So he had. Neither Rolf nor Quonab had remarked it, 
but now they were much of the same height. "Wall, 
an' how'd ye make out with yer hunt? — Ah, that's fine ! " 
as each of them dropped a fur pack on the counter. * * Wall, 
this is fine; we must have a drink on the head of it," and 
the trader was somewhat nonplussed when both the 
trappers refused. He was disappointed, too, for that 
refusal meant that they would get much better prices for 
their fur. But he concealed his chagrin and rattled on: 
"I reckon I'll seH you the finest rifle in the country this 

239 




Rolf in the Woods 

time," and he knew by Rolf^s face that there was business 
to do in that line. 

Now came the listing of the fur, and naturally the 
bargaining was between the shrewd Yankee boy and the 
trader. The Indian stood shyly aside, but he did not fail 
to help with significant grunts and glances. 

"There, now,'' said Warren, as the row of martens 
were laid out side by side, "thirty martens — a lee tie pale 
— worth three dollars and fifty cents each, or, to be 
generous, we'll say four dollars." Rolf glanced at Quonab, 
who, unseen by the trader shook his head, held his right 
hand out, open hollow up, then raised it with a jerk for 
two inches. 

Quickly Rolf caught the idea and said; "No, I don't 
rec*kon them pale. I call them prime dark, every one of 
them." Quonab spread his hand with all five fingers 
pointed up, and Rolf continued, "They are worth five 
dollars each, if they're worth a copper." 

"Phew!" said the trader, "you forget fur is an awful 
risky tjiing; what with mildew, moth, mice, and markets, 
we have a lot of risk. But I want to please you, so let 
her go; &ve each. There's a fine black fox; that's worth 
forty dollars." 

"I should think it is," said Rolf, as Quonab, by throw- 
ing to his right an imaginary pinch of sand, made the 
sign "refuse." 

They had talked over the value of that fox skin and 
Rolf said, "Why, I know of a black fox that sold for two 
hundred dollars." 

"Where?" 

240 



Marketing the Fur 

**0h, down at Stamford/' 

"Why, that's near New York." 

" Of course ; don't you send your fur to New York? " 

"Yes, but it costs a lot to get it there. 

"Now," said Warren, "if you'll take it in trade, I'll 
meet you half-way and call it one hundred dollars." 

"Make it one hundred and twenty-five dollars and I'll 
take a rifle, anyway." 

"Phew!" whistled the trader. "Where do ye get such 
notions?" 

"Nothing wrong about the notion; old Si Sylvanne 
offered me pretty near that, if I'd come out his way with 
the stuff." 

This had the desired effect of showing that there were 
other traders. At last the deal was closed. Besides the 
fox skin, they had three hundred dollars' worth of fur. 
The exchange for the fox skin was enough to buy all the 
groceries and dry goods they needed. But Rolf had 
something else in mind. 

He had picked out some packages of candies, some calico 
prints and certain bright ribbons, when the trader grasped 
the idea. "I see; yer goin' visitin'. Who is it? Must 
be the Van Trumpers!" 

Rolf nodded and now he got some very intelligent 
guidance. He did not buy Annette's dress, because part 
of her joy was to be the expedition in person to pick it 
out; but he stocked up with some gorgeous pieces of 
jewellery that were ten cents each, and ribbons whose 
colours were as far beyond expression as were the joys they 
could create in the backwoods female heart. 

241 




Rolf in the Woods 

Proudly clutching his new rifle, and carrying in his 
wallet a memorandum of three hundred dollars for their 
joint credit, Rolf felt himself a person of no little impor- 
tance. As he was stepping out of the store, the trader 
said, "Ye didn't run across Jack Hoag agin, did ye?" 

"Did we? Hmph!'' and Rolf told briefly of their 
experience with that creature. 

"Just like him, just like him; served him right; he was 
a dirty cuss. But, say; don't you be led into taking your 
fur out Lyons Falls way. They're a mean lot in there, 
and it stands to reason I can give you better prices, being 
a hundred miles nearer New York." 

And that lesson was not forgotten. The nearer New 
York the better the price; seventy-five dollars at Lyons 
Falls; one hundred and twenty-five dollars at Warren's; 
two hundred dollars at New York. Rolf pondered long 
and the idea was one which grew and bore fruit. 



242 



LI 



Back at Van Trumper's 



NIBOWAKA" — Quonab always said ^'Nibowaka" 
when he was impressed with Rolf's astuteness — 
"What about the canoe and stuff?" 

"I think we better leave all here. Callan will lend us 
a canoe." So they shouldered the guns, Rolf clung to 
his, and tramped across the portage, reaching Callan's 
in less than two hours. 

"Why, certainly you can have the canoe, but come in 
and eat first," was the kindly backwoods greeting. How- 
ever, Rolf was keen to push on; they launched the canoe 
at once and speedily were flashing their paddles on the 
lake. 

The place looked sweetly familiar as they drew near. 
The crops in the fields were fair; the crop of chickens at the 
barn was good; and the crop of children about the door 
was excellent. 

"Mein Hemel! mein Hemel!" shouted fat old Hendrik, 
as they walked up to the stable door. In a minute he 
was wringing their hands and smiling into great red, 
white, and blue smiles. "Coom in, coom in, lad. Hi, 
Marta, here be Rolf and Quonab. Mein Hemel! mein 
Hemel! what am I now so happy." 

243 




Rolf in the Woods 

"Where's Annette?" asked Rolf. 

"Ach, poor Annette, she fever have a little; not 
mooch, some," and he led over to a corner where on a low- 
cot lay Annette, thin, pale, and listless. 

She smiled faintly, in response, when Rolf stooped 
and kissed her, 

*'Why, Annette, I came back to see you. I want to 
take you over to Warren's store, so you can pick out that 
dress. See, I brought you my first marten and I made 
this box for you; you must thank Skookum for the quills 
on it." 

"Poor chile; she bin sick all spring," and Marta used a 
bunch of sedge to drive away the flies and mosquitoes that, 
bass and treble, hovered around the child. 

"What ails her?" asked Rolf anxiously. 

"Dot ve do not know," was the reply. 

"Maybe there's some one here can tell," and Rolf 
glanced at the Indian. 

" Ach, sure ! Have I you that not always told ^ll-vays — 
eet is so. AU-vays, I want sumpin bad mooch. I 
prays de good Lord and all-vays, all-vays, two times 
now. He it send by next boat. Ach, how I am spoil," 
and the good Dutchman's eyes filled with tears of 
thankfulness. 

Quonab knelt by the sufferer. He felt her hot, dry 
hand; he noticed her short, quick breathing, her bright 
eyes, and the untouched bowl of mush by her bed. 

"Swamp fever," he said, "I bring good medicine." 
He passed quietly out into the woods. When he returned, 
he carried a bundle of snake-root which he made into tea. 

244 



Back at Van Trumper^s 

Annette did not wish to touch it, but her mother per- 
suaded her to take a few sips from a cup held by Rolf. 

"Wah! this not good," and Quonab glanced about the 
close, fly-infested room. *'I must make lodge." He 
turned up the cover of the bedding; three or four large, 
flat brown things moved slowly out of the light. "Yes, 
I make lodge." 

It was night now, and all retired; the newcomers to the 
barn. They had scarcely entered, when a screaming of 
poultry gave a familiar turn to affairs. On running to 
the spot, it proved not a mink or coon, but Skookum, up 
to his old tricks. On the appearance of his masters, he 
fled with guilty haste, crouched beneath the post that he 
used to be, and soon again Was, chained to. 

In the morning Quonab set about his lodge, and Rolf 
said: "IVe got to go to Warren's for sugar." The sugar 
was part truth and part blind. As soon as he heard the 
name swamp fever, Rolf remembered that, in Redding, 
Jesuit's bark (known later as quinine) was the sovereign 
remedy. He had seen his mother administer it many 
times, and, so far as he knew, with uniform success. Every 
frontier (or backwoods, it's the same) trader carries a 
stock of medicine, and in two hours Rolf left Warren's 
counter with twenty-five pounds of maple sugar and a 
bottle of quinine extract in his pack. 

"You say she's bothered with the flies; why don't you 
take some of this new stuff for a curtain?" and the trader 
held up a web of mosquito gauze, the first Rolf had seen. 
That surely was a good idea, and ten yards snipped off 
was a most interesting addition to his pack. The amount 




Rolf in the Woods 

was charged against him, and in two hours more he was 
back at Van Trumper's. 

On the cool side of the house, Quonab had built a little 
lodge, using a sheet for cover. On a low bed of pine boughs 
lay the child. Near the door was a smouldering fire of 
cedar, whose aromatic fumes on the lazy wind reached 
every cranny of the lodge. 

Sitting by the bed head, with a chicken wing to keep 
off the few mosquitoes, was the Indian. The child's eyes 
were closed; she was sleeping peacefully. Rolf crept 
gently forward, laid his hand on hers, it was cool and 
moist. He went into the house with his purchases; the 
mother greeted him with a happy look: Yes, Annette was 
a little better; she had slept quietly ever since she was 
taken outdoors. The mother could not understand. 
Why should the Indian want to have her surrounded by 
pine boughs? why cedar-smoke? and why that queer song? 
Yes, there it was again. Rolf went out to see and hear. 
Softly tumming on a tin pan, with a muffled stick, the Indian 
sang a song. The words which Rolf learned in the after- 
time were: 

" Come, Kaluskap, drive the witches; 
Those who came to harm the dear one." 

Annette moved not, but softly breathed, as she slept, 
a sweet, restful slumber, the first for many days. 

^^Vouldn't she be better in de house?" whispered the 
anxious mother. 

"No, let Quonab do his own way," and Rolf wondered 
if any white man had sat by little WeQ-wees to brush away 
the flies from his last bed. 

246 



LII 



Annette^s New Dress 

Deep feelin's ain't any count by themselves; work 'em off, an' ye're 
somebody; weep 'em off an' you'd be more use with a heart o' stone. 

— Sayings oj Si Sylvanne. 



QUONAB, I am going out to get her a partridge." 
"Ugh, good." 
So Rolf went off. For a moment he was inclined 
to grant Skookum's prayer for leave to follow, but another 
and better plan came in mind. Skookum would most 
likely find a mother partridge, which none should kill 
in June, and there was a simple way to find a cock; that 
was, listen. It was now the evening calm, and before 
Rolf had gone half a mile he heard the distant ^' Thump, 
thump J thump, thump — rrrrrrr^^ of a partridge, drumming. 
He went quickly and cautiously toward the place, then 
waited for the next drumming. It was slow in coming, so 
he knelt down by a mossy, rotten log, and struck it 
with his hands to imitate the thump and roll of the par- 
tridge. At once this challenge procured response. 

^' Thump — thump — thump, thump rrrrrrrrrr^' it came, 
with martial swing and fervour, and crawling nearer, 
Rolf spied the drummer, pompously strutting up and 
down a log some forty yards away. He took steady aim, 

247 




Rolf in the Woods 

not for the head — with a strange gun, at forty yards 
— but for the body. At the crack, the bird fell dead, 
and in Rolf's heart there swelled up a Httle gush of 
joy, which he believed was all for the sake of the in- 
vahd, but which a finer analysis might have proved to 
be due quite as much to pride in himself and his newly 
bought gun. 

Night was coming on when he got back, and he found 
the Dutch parents in some excitement. ^'Dot Indian he 
say no bring Annette indoors for de night. How she sleep 
outdoors — like dog — like nigger — like tramp? Yah, 
it is bad, ain't it?" and poor old Hendrik looked sadly 
upset and mystified. 

"Hendrik, do you suppose God turns out worse air in 
the night than in the day? '' 

"Ach, dunno." 

"Well, you see Quonab knows what he's doing." 

"Yah." 

"Well, let him do it. He or I'll sleep alongside the child ; 
she'll be all right," and Rolf thought of those horrible 
brown crawlers under the bedding indoors. 

Rolf had much confidence in the Indian as a doctor, 
but he had more in his own mother. He was determined 
to give Annette the quinine, yet he hesitated to interfere. 
At length, he said: "It is cool enough now; I will put these 
thin curtains round her bed." 

"Ugh, good!" but the red man sat there while it was 
being done. 

"You need not stay now; I'll watch her, Quonab." 

"Soon, give more medicine," was the reply that Rolf 

248 



Annette's New Dress 

did not want. So he changed his ruse. "I wish you'd 
take that partridge and make soup of it. I Ve had my 
hands in poison ivy, so I dare not touch it." 

"Ach, dot shall / do. Dot kin myself do/' and the 
fat mother, laying the recent baby in its cradle, made 
cumbrous haste to cook the bird. 

"Foiled again," was Rolf's thought, but his Yankee 
wit was with him. He laid one hand on the bowl of 
snake-root tea. It was lukewarm. "Do you give it hot 
or cold, Quonab?" 

"Hot." 

"I'll take it in and heat it." He carried it off, think- 
ing, "If Quonab won't let me give the bark extract, 
I'll make him give it." In the gloom of the kitchen he had 
no difficulty in adding to the tea, quite unseen, a quarter 
of the extract; when heated, he brought it again, and the 
Indian himself gave the dose. 

As bedtime drew near, and she heard the red man 
say he would sleep there, the little one said feebly, "Mother, 
mother," then whispered in her mother's ear, "I want 
Rolf." 

Rolf spread his blanket by the cot and slept lightly. 
Once or twice he rose to look at Annette. She was moving 
in her sleep, but did not awake. He saw to it that the 
mosquito bar was in place, and slept till morning. 

There was no question that the child was better. The 
renewed interest in food was the first good symptom, and 
the partridge served the end of its creation. The snake- 
root and the quinine did noble work, and thenceforth her 
recovery was rapid. It was natural for her mother to 

249 




Rolf in the Woods 

wish the child back indoors. It was a matter of course 
that she should go. It was accepted as an unavoidable 
evil that they should always have those brown crawlers 
about the bed. 

But Rolf felt differently. He knew what his mother 
would have thought and done. It meant another visit 
to Warren's, and the remedy he brought was a strong- 
smelling oil, called in those days "rock oil" — a crude 
petroleum. When all cracks in the bed and near wall 
were treated with this, it greatly mitigated, if it did not 
quite end, the nuisance of the "plague that walks in the 
dark." 

Meanwhile, Quonab had made good his welcome by 
working on the farm. But when a week had flown, he 
showed signs of restlessness. "We have enough money, 
Nibowaka, why do we stay?" 

Rolf was hauling a bucket of water from the well at 
the time. He stopped with his burden on the well-sweep, 
gazed into the well, and said slowly: "I don't know." 
If the truth were set forth, it would be that this was the 
only home circle he knew. It was the clan feeling that 
held him, and soon it was clearly the same reason that was 
driving Quonab to roam. 

"I have heard," said the Indian, "that my people still 
dwell in Canada, beyond Rouse's Point. I would see 
them. I will come again in the Red Moon (August)." 

So they hired a small canoe, and one bright morning, 
with Skookum in the bow, Quonab paddled away on his 
voyage of 120 miles on the placid waters of Lakes George 
and Champlain. His canoe became a dark spot on the 

250 



Annette^s New Dress 

water; slowly it faded till only the flashing paddle was 
seen, and that was lost around a headland. 

The next day Rolf was sorry he let Quonab go alone, 
for it was evident that Van Trumper needed no help for 
a month yet; that is, he could not afford to hire, and while 
it was well enough for Rolf to stay a few days and work 
to equalize his board, the arrangement would not long 
continue satisfactory to both. 

Yet there was one thing he must do before leaving, take 
Annette to pick out her dress. She was well again now, 
and they set off one morning in the canoe, she and Rolf. 
Neither father nor mother could leave the house. They 
had their misgivings, but what could they do? She was 
bright and happy, full of the childish joy that belongs to 
that age, and engaged on such an important errand for the 
first time in her Hfe. ^ 

There was something more than childish joy showing 
in her face, an older person would have seen that, but it was 
largely lost on Rolf. There was a tendency to blush when 
she laughed, a disposition to tease her ''big brother, '' to 
tyrannize over him in little things. 

"Now, you tell me some more about ' Robinson Crusoe,' " 
she began, as soon as they were in the canoe, and Rolf 
resumed the ancient, inspiring tale to have it listened to 
eagerly, but criticized from the standpoint of a Lake George 
farm. "Where was his wife?" "How could he have a 
farm without hens?" "Dried grapes must be nice, but 
I'd rather have pork than goat," etc. 

Rolf, of course, took the part of Robinson Crusoe, and it 
gave him a little shock to hear Quonab called his man Friday. 

251 



Rolf in the Woods 

At the west side they were to invite Mrs. Callan to join 
their shopping trip, but in any case they were to borrow a 
horse and buckboard. Neither Mrs. Callan nor the buck- 
board was available, but they were welcome to the horse. 
So Annette was made comfortable on a bundle of blankets, 
and chattered incessantly while Rolf walked alongside 
with the grave interest and superiority of a much older 
brother. So they crossed the five-mile portage and came 
to Warren's store. Nervous and excited, with sparkling 
eyes, Annette laid down her marten skin, received five 
dollars, and set about the tremendous task of selecting 
her first dress of really, truly calico print; and Rolf realized 
that the joy he had found in his new rifle was a very small 
affair, compared with the epoch-making, soul-filling, 
life-absorbing, unspeakable, and cataclysmal bliss that a 
small girl can have in her first chance of unfettered action 
in choice of a cotton print. 

*' Beautiful? " How can mere words do justice to masses 
of yellow corn, mixed recklessly with green and scarlet 
poppies on a bright blue ground. No, you should have 
seen Annette's dress, or you cannot expect to get the ade- 
quate thrill. And when they found that there was enough 
/^t:A L I cash left over to add a red cotton parasol to the glorious 



is^ I spoils, every one there beamed in a sort of friendly joy, 

and the trader, carried away by the emotions of the hour, 

I' I contributed a set of buttons of shining brass. 
I Warren kept a "meal house," which phrase was a ruse 

that saved him from a burdensome hospitality. Deter- 
mined to do it all in the best style, Rolf to6k Annette to 
the meal-house table. She was deeply awed by the 

252 




'^%;r.- 



Annette^s New Dress 

grandeur of a tablecloth and white plates, but every one 
was kind. 

Warren, talking to a stranger opposite, and evidently 
resuming a subject they had discussed, said: 

"Yes, I'd like to send the hull lot down to Albany this 
week, if I could get another man for the canoe/' 

Rolf was interested at once and said: "What wages are 
you offering?" 

"Twenty-five dollars and board." 

"How will I do?" 

"Well," said Warren, as though thinking it over: "I 
dunno but ye would. Could ye go to-morrow?" 

"Yes, indeed, for one month." 

"All right, it's a bargain." 

And so Rolf took the plunge that influenced his whole 
life. 

But Annette whispered gleefully and excitedly, 
"May I have some of that, and that?" pointing to every 
strange food she could see, and got them all. 

After noon they set out on their return journey, An- 
nette clutching her prizes, and prattling incessantly, while 
Rolf walked alongside, thinking deeply, replying to her 
chatter, but depressed by the thought of good-bye to- 
morrow. He was aroused at length by a scraping sound 
overhead and a sharp reprimand, "Rolf, you'll tear my 
new parasol, if you don't lead the horse better." 

By two o'clock they were at Callan's. Another hour and 
they had crossed the lake, and Annette, shrill with joy, 
was displaying her treasures to the wonder and envy of 
her kin. 

253 



Rolf in the Woods 

Making a dress was a simple matter in those days, 
and Marta promised: ^'Yah, soom day ven I one hour 
have, shall I it sew.'' Meanwhile, Annette was quaffing 
deep, soul-satisfying draughts in the mere contemplation 
of the yellow, red, green, and blue glories in which she 
was soon to appear in public. And when the bed hour 
came, she fell asleep holding the dress-goods stuff in her 
arms, and with the red parasol spread above her head, 
tired out, but inexpressibly happy. 







254 



LIII 
Travelling to the Great City 

He's a bad failure that ain't king in some little corner — Sayings of Si Sylvanne 

THE children were not astir when Rolf was off in 
the morning. He caught a glimpse of Annette, 
still asleep under the red parasol, but the dress- 
goods and the brass buttons had fallen to the floor. 
He stepped into the canoe. The dead calm of 
early morning was on the water, and the little craft went 
skimming and wimpling across. In half an hour it was 
beached at Callan's. In a little more than an hour's jog 
and stride he was at Warren's, ready for work. As he 
marched in, strong and brisk, his colour up, his blue eyes 
kindled with the thought of seeing Albany, the trader 
could not help being struck by him, especially when he 
remembered each of their meetings — meetings in which he 
discerned a keen, young mind of good judgment, one that 
could decide quickly. 

Gazing at the lithe, red-cheeked lad, he said: "Say, 
Rolf, air ye an Injun? " 

"No, sir." 

"Air ye a half-breed?" 

"No, I'm a Yank; my name is Kittering; born and bred 
in Redding, Connecticut." 

2SS 



Rolf in the Woods 

*' Well, I swan, ye look it. At fust I took ye fur an Injun ; 
ye did look dark (and Rolf laughed inside, as he thought 
of that butternut dye), but I'm bound to say we're glad 
yer white." 

^'Here, Bill, this is Rolf, Rolf Kittering, he'll go with ye 
to Albany. " Bill, a loose- jointed, middle-aged, flat-footed, 
large-handed, semi-loafer, with keen gray eyes, looked up 
from a bundle he was roping. 

Then Warren took Rolf aside and explained: "I'm 
sending down all my fur this trip. There's ten bales of 
sixty pounds each, pretty near my hull fortune. I 
want it took straight to Vandam's, and, night or day, 
don't leave it till ye git it there. He's close to the dock. 
I'm telling ye this for two reasons: The river's swarming 
with pirates and sneaks. They'd like nothing better 
than to get away with a five-hundred-dollar bundle of 
fur; and, next, while Bill is Ai on the river and true as 
steel, he's awful weak on the liquor; goes crazy, once it's 
in him. And I notice you've always refused it here. So 
don't stop at Troy, an' when ye get to Albany go straight 
past there to Vandam's. You'll have a letter that'll 
explain, and he'll supply the goods yer to bring back. He's a 
sort of a partner, and orders from him is same as from me. 

"I suppose I ought to go myself, but this is the time 
all the fur is coming in here, an' I must be on hand to do 
the dickering, and there's too much moth to risk it any 
longer in the storehouse." 

"Suppose," said Rolf, "Bill wants to stop at Troy?" 

"He won't. He's all right, given he's sober. I've 
give him the letter." 

256 



Travelling to the Great City 

^'Couldn't you give me the letter, in case?" 

''Law, Bill'd get mad and quit." 

^'He'U never know." 

*' That's so; I will." So when they paddled away, 
Bill had an important letter of instructions ostentatiously 
tucked in his outer pocket. Rolf, unknown to any one 
else but Warren, had a duplicate, wrapped in waterproof, 
hidden in an inside pocket. 

Billwas A I on the river; a kind and gentle old woodman, 
much stronger than he looked. He knew the value of 
fur and the danger of wetting it, so he took no chances 
in doubtful rapids. This meant many portages and much 
hard labour. 

I wonder if the world realizes the hard labour of the 
portage or carry? Let any man who seeks for hght, take 
a fifty-pound sack of flour on his shoulders and walk 
a quarter of a mile on level ground in cool weather. Unless 
he is in training, he will find it a heavy burden long before 
he is half-way. Suppose, instead of a flour sack, the burden 
has sharp angles; the bearer is soon in torture. Suppose 
the weight carried be double; then the strain is far more 
than doubled. Suppose, finally, the road be not a quarter 
mile but a mile, and not on level but through swamps, 
over rocks, logs, and roots, and the weather not cool, 
but suffocating summer weather in the woods, with mos- 
quitoes boring into every exposed part, while both hands 
are occupied, steadying the burden or holding on to branches 
for help up steep places — and then he will have some 
idea of the horror of the portage; and there were many 
of these, each one calling for six loaded and five light 

257 




Shrl 




finish 



Rolf in the Woods 

trips for each canoe-man. What wonder that men will often 
take chances in some fierce rapid, rather than to make a 
long carry through the fly-infested woods. 

It was weighty evidence of Bill's fideHty that again 
and again they made a portage around rapids he had often 
run, because in the present case he was in sacred trust of 
that much prized commodity — fur. 

Eighty miles they called it from Warren's to Albany, 
but there were many halts and carries which meant long 
delay, and a whole week was covered before Bill and Rolf 
had passed the settlements of Glens Falls, Fort Edward, 
and Schuylerville, and guided their heavily laden canoe 
on the tranquil river, past the little town of Troy. Loafers 
hailed them from the bank, but Bill turned a deaf ear 
to all temptation; and they pushed on happy in the thought 
that now their troubles were over; the last rapid was past; 
the broad, smooth waters extended to their port. 




LIV 
Albany 

ONLY a man who in his youth has come at last in 
sight of some great city he had dreamed of all 
his hfe and longed to see, can enter into Rolf'3 
feelings as they swept around the big bend, and Albany — 
Albany f hove in view. Albany, the first chartered city 
of the United States; Albany, the capital of all the Empire 
State; Albany, the thriving metropolis with nearly six 
thousand living human souls; Albany with its State House, 
beautiful and dignified, looking down the mighty Hudson 
highway that led to the open sea. 

Rolf knew his Bible, and now he somewhat realized the 
feelings of St. Paul on that historic day when his life-long 
dream came true, when first he neared the Eternal City — 
when at last he glimpsed the towers of imperial, splendid 
Rome. 

The long-strung docks were masted and webbed with 
ship rigging; the water was livened with boats and canoes; 
the wooden warehouses back of the docks were overtopped 
by wooden houses in tiers, until high above them all the 
Capitol itself was the fitting climax. 

Rolf knew something of shipping, and amid all the 
masted boats his eyes fell on a strange, square-looking 

259 



Rolf in the Woods 

craft with a huge water-wheel on each side. Then, 
swinging into better view, he read her name, the Cler- 
mont ^ and knew that this was the famous Fulton steamer, 
the first of the steamboat age. 

But Bill was swamped by no such emotion. Albany, 
Hudson, Clermont, and all, were familiar stories to him, 
and he stolidly headed the canoe for the dock he knew 
of old. 

Loafers roosting on the snubbing posts hailed him, 
at first with raillery; but, coming nearer, he was recognized. 
"Hello, Bill; back again? Glad to see you," and there was 
superabundant help to land the canoe. 

"Wall, wall, wall, so it's really you," said the touter 
of a fur house, in extremely friendly voice; "come in now, 
and we'll hev a drink." 

"No, sir-ree," said Bill decisively, "I don't drink till 
business is done." 

"Wall, now. Bill, here's Van Roost's not ten steps away, 
an' he hez tapped the finest bar'l in years." 

"No, I tell ye, I'm not drinking — now." 

"Wall, all right, ye know yer own business. I thought 
maybe ye'd be glad to see us." 

"Well, ain't I?" 

"Hello, Bill," and Bill's fat brother-in-law came up. 
"This does me good, an' yer sister is spilin' to see ye. 
We'll hev one on this." 

"No, Sam, I ain't drinkin'; I've got biz to tend." 

"Wall, hev just one to clear yer head. Tl^en settle yer 
business and come back to us." 

So Bill went to have one to clear his head. "I'll be 

260 



Albany 

back in two minutes, Rolf/' but Rolf saw him no more 
for many days. 

"You better come along, cub," called out a red-nosed 
member of the group. But Rolf shook his head. 

"Here, I'll help you git them ashore/' volunteered 
an effusive stranger, with one eye. 

"I don't want help." 

"How are ye goin' to handle 'em alone?" 

"Well, there's one thing I'd be glad to have ye do; that 
is, go up there and bring Peter Vandam." 

" I'll watch yer stuff while you go." 

"No, I can't leave." 

"Then go to blazes; d'y'e take me for yer errand boy?" 
And Rolf was left alone. 

He was green at the business, but already he was realiz- 
ing the power of that word jur and the importance of 
the peltry trade. Fur was the one valued product of the 
wilderness that only the hunter could bring. The mer- 
chants of the world were as greedy for fur as for gold, and 
far more so than for precious stones. 

It was a commodity so light that, even in those days, 
a hundred weight of fur might range in value from one 
hundred to ^y^ thousand dollars, so that a man with a 
pack of fine furs was a capitalist. The profits of the 
business were good for trapper, very large for the trader, 
who doubled his first gain by paying in trade; but they 
were huge for the Albany middleman, and colossal for 
the New Yorker who shipped to London. 

With such allurements, it was small wonder that more 
country was explored and opened for fur than for settle- 

261 



Rolf in the Woods 

ment or even for gold; and there were more serious crimes 
and high-handed robberies over the right to trade a few 
furs than over any other legitimate business. These 
things were new to Rolf within the year, but he was learn- 
ing the lesson, and Warren's remarks about fur stuck in 
his memory with growing value. Every incident since 
the trip began had given them new points. 

The morning passed without sign of Bill; so, when in 
the afternoon, some bare-legged boys came along, Rolf 
said to them: "Do any of ye know where Peter Van- 
dam's house is?" 

" Yeh, that's it right there," and they pointed to a large 
log house less than a hundred yards away. 

"Do ye know him?" 

" Yeh, he's my paw," said a sun-bleached freckle-face. 

"If you bring him here right away, I'll give you a dime. 
Tell him I'm from Warren's with a cargo." 

The dusty stampede that followed was like that of a 
mustang herd, for a dime was a dime in those days. And 
very soon, a tall, ruddy man appeared at the dock. He was 
a Dutchman in name only. At first sight he was much 
like the other loafers, but was bigger, and had a more 
business-like air when observed near at hand. 

"Are you from Warren's? " 

"Yes, sir." 

"Alone?" 

"No, sir. I came with Bill Bymus. But he went off 
early this morning; I haven't seen him since. I'm afraid 
he's in trouble." ' 

"Wher^'dhego?" 

z62 



Albany 

"In there with some friends." 

'*Ha, just like him; he's in trouble all right. He'll 
be no good for a week. Last time he came near losing all 
our stuff. Now let's see what ye've got." 

"Are you Mr. Peter Vandam?" 

"Of course I am." 

Still Rolf looked doubtful. There was a small group 
around, and Rolf heard several voices, "Yes, this is 
Peter; ye needn't a-worry." But Rolf knew none of the 
speakers. His look of puzzlement at first annoyed then 
tickled the Dutchman, who exploded into a hearty guffaw. 

"Wall, wall, you sure think ill of us. Here, now look 
at that," and he drew out a bundle of letters addressed 
to Master Peter Vandam. Then he displayed a gold 
watch inscribed on the back "Peter Vandam"; next he 
showed a fob seal with a scroll and an inscription, "Petrus 
Vandamus"; then he turned to a youngster and said, 
"Run, there is the Reverend Dr. Powellus, he may help 
us"; so the black-garbed, knee-breeched, shovel-hatted 
clergyman came and pompously said: "Yes, my young 
friend, without doubt you may rest assured that this is 
our very estimable parishioner, Master Peter Vandam; 
a man well accounted in the world of trade." 

"And now," said Peter, "with the help of my birth- 
register and marriage-certificate, which will be placed at 
your service with all possible haste, I hope I may win your 
recognition." The situation, at first tense, had become 
more and more funny, and the bystanders laughed aloud. 
Rolf rose to it, and smiling said slowly, "I am inclined 
to think that you must be Master Peter Vandam, of 

263 




Rolf in the Woods 

Albany. If that's so, this letter is for you, also this 
cargo." And so the delivery was made. 

Bill Bymus has not delivered the other letter to this day. 
Presumably he went to stay with his sister, but she saw 
little of him, for his stay at Albany was, as usual, one long 
spree. It was clear that, but for Rolf, there might have 
been serious loss of fur, and Vandam showed his appre- 
ciation by taking the lad to his own home, where the story 
of the difficult identification furnished ground for gusty 
laughter and primitive jest on many an after day. 

The return cargo for Warren consisted of stores that 
the Vandam warehouse had in stock, and some stuff that 
took a day or more to collect in town. 

As Rolf was sorting and packing next day, a tall, thin, 
well-dressed young man walked in with the air of one much 
at home. 

" Good morrow, Peter." 

"Good day to ye, sir," and they talked of crops and 
poKtics. 

Presently Vandam said, "Rolf, come over here." 

He came and was presented to the tall man, who was 
indeed very thin, and looked little better than an invalid. 
"This," said Peter, "is Master Henry van Cortlandt the 
son of his honour, the governor, and a very learned 
barrister. He wants to go on a long hunting trip for his 
health. I tell him that Hkely you are the man he needs." 

This was so unexpected that Rolf turned red and gazed 
on the ground. Van Cortlandt at once began to clear 
things by interjecting: "You see, I'm not strong. I want 
to live outdoors for three months, where I can have some 

264 



Albany 



hunting and be beyond reach of business. I'll pay you a 
hundred dollars for the three months, to cover board and 
guidance. And providing I'm well pleased and have good 
hunting, I'll give you fifty dollars more when I get back 
to Albany." 

"I'd like much to be your guide," said Rolf, "but I have 
a partner. I must find out if he's willing." 

"Ye don't mean that drunken Bill Bymus?" 

"No! my hunting partner; he's an Indian." Then, 
after a pause, he added, '' You wouldn't go iii fly- time, 
would you?" 

"No, I want to be in peace. But any time after the 
first of August." 

"I am bound to help Van Trumper with his harvest; 
that will take most of August." 

As he talked, the young lawyer sized him up and said 
to himself, "This is my man." 

And before they parted it was agreed that Rolf should 
come to Albany with Quonab as soon as he could return 
in August, to form the camping party for the governor's 
son. 




265 



LV 

The Rescue of Bill 

BALES were ready and the canoe newly gummed 
three days after their arrival, but still no sign of 
Bill. A messenger sent to the brother-in-law's 
home reported that he had not been seen for two days. 
In spite of the fact that Albany numbered nearly ^'six 
thousand living human souls," a brief search by the dock- 
sharps soon revealed the sinner's retreat. His worst 
enemy would have pitied him; a red-eyed wreck; a starved, 
sick and trembHng weakHng; conscience-stricken, for the 
letter intrusted to him was lost; the cargo stolen — so 
his comforters had said — and the raw country lad mur- 
dered and thrown out into the river. What wonder that 
he should shun the Hght of day! And when big Peter,- 
with Rolf in the living flesh, instead of the sheriff, stood 
before him and told him to come out of that and get into 
the canoe, he wept bitter tears of repentance and vowed 
that never, never, never, as long as he lived, would he ever 
again let liquor touch his lips. A frame of mind which 
lasted in strength for nearly one day and a half, and 
did not entirely vanish for three. 

They passed Troy without desiring to stop, and began 
their fight with the river. It was harder than when coming, 

266 



The Rescue of Bill 



for their course was against stream when paddling, up hill 
when portaging, the water was lower, the cargo was heavier, 
and Bill not so able. Ten days it took them to cover those 
eighty miles. But they came out safely, cargo and all, 
and landed at Warren's alive and well on the twenty-first 
day since leaving. 

Bill had recovered his usual form. Gravely and with 
pride he marched up to Warren and handed out a large 
letter which read outside, "Bill of Lading," and when 
opened, read: "The bearer of this. Bill Bymus, is no good. 
Don't trust him to Albany any more. (Signed) Peter 
Vandam." 

Warren's eyes twinkled, but he said nothing. He took 
Rolf aside and said, "Let's have it." Rolf gave him the 
real letter that, unknown to Bill, he had carried, and 
Warren learned some things that he knew before. 

Rolf's contract was for a month; it had ten days to run, 
and those ten days were put in weighing sugar, checking 
accounts, milking cows, and watching the buying of fur. 
Warren didn't want him to see too much of the fur business, 
but Rolf gathered quickly that these were the main prin- 
ciples: Fill the seller with liquor, if possible; "fire water 
for fur" was the idea; next, grade all fur as medium or 
second-class, when cash was demanded, but be easy as 
long as payment was to be in trade. That afforded many 
loopholes between weighing, grading, charging, and shrink- 
age, and finally he noticed that Albany prices were 30 
to 50 per cent, higher than Warren prices. Yet Warren 
was reckoned a first-class fellow, a good neighbour, and a 
member of the church. But it was understood everywhere 

267 



Tlk» two P 



f 



A 



Rolf in the Woods 

that fur, like horseflesh, was a business with moral stand- 
ards of its own. 

A few days before their contract was up, Warren said: 
^'How'd ye like to renew for a month? ^' 

"Can't; I promised to help Van Trumper with his 
harvest." 

"What does he pay ye? " 

"Seventy-five cents a day and board." 

"I'll make it a dollar." 

"I've given my word," said Rolf, in surprise. 

"Hev ye signed papers?" 

"They're not needed. The only use of signed papers 
is to show ye have given your word," said Rolf, quoting 
his mother, with rising indignation. 

The trader sniffed a little contemptuously and said 
nothing. But he realized the value of a lad who was a 
steady, intelligent worker, wouldn't drink, and was ab- 
solutely bound by a promise; so, after awhile, he said: 
"Wall, if Van don't want ye now, come back for a couple 
of weeks." 

Early in the morning Rolf gathered the trifles he had 
secured for the little children and the book he had bought 
for Annette, a sweet story of a perfect girl who died and 
went to heaven, the front embellished with a thrilling 
wood-cut. Then he crossed the famihar five-mile portage 
at a pace that in an hour brought him to the lake. 

The greeting at Van's was that of a brother come home. 

"Veil, Rolf, it's goood to see ye back. It's choost 
vat I vanted. Hi, Marta, I told it you, yah. I say, now I 
hope ze good Gott send Rolf. Ach, how I am shpoil ! " 

268 ^ 



The Rescue of Bill 

Yes, indeed. The hay was ready; the barley was chang- 
ing. So Rolf took up his life on the farm, doing work 
that a year before was beyond his strength, for the spirit 
of the hills was on him, with its impulse of growth, its joy 
in effort, its glory in strength. And all who saw the long- 
legged, long-armed, flat-backed youth plying fork or axe 
or hoe, in some sort ventured a guess: "He'll be a good 
'un some day; the kind o' chap to keep friendly with." 




269 



LVI 

The Sick Ox 

THE Thunder Moon passed quickly by ; the hay was 
in; the barley partly so. Day by day the white- 
faced oxen toiled at the preaking yoke, as the 
loads of hay and grain were jounced cumbrously over 
roots and stumps of the virgin fields. Everything was 
promising well, when, as usual, there came a thunderbolt 
out of the clear sky. Buck, the off ox, fell sick. 

Those who know little about cattle have written much 
of the meek and patient ox. Those who know them well 
tell us that the ox is the "most cussedest of all cussed" 
animals; a sneak, a bully, a coward, a thief, a shirk, 
a schemer; and when he is not in mischief he is think- 
ing about it. The wickedest pack mule that ever bucked 
his burden is a pin-feathered turtle-dove compared with 
an average ox. There are some gentle oxen, but they are 
rare; most are treacherous, some are dangerous, and these 
are best got rid of, as they mislead their yoke mates and 
mislay their drivers. Van's two oxen. Buck and Bright, 
manifested the usual variety and contrariety of disposition. 
They were all right when well handled, and this Rolf 
could do better than Van, for he was *' raised on oxen," 
and Van's over voluble, sputtering, Dutch-English seemed 

270 



The Sick Ox 

ill comprehended of the massive yoke beasts. The simpler 
whip-waving and fewer orders of the Yankee were so 
obviously successful that Van had resigned the whip of 
authority and Rolf was driver. 

Ordinarily, an ox driver walks on the haw (nigh or left) 
side, near the head of his team, shouting *'gee" (right), 
*'haw'^ (left), ''get up," ''steady," or "whoa" (stop), 
accompanying the order with a waving of the whip. Fool- 
ish drivers lash the oxen on the haw side when they wish 
them to gee — and vice versa; but it is notorious that all 
good drivers do little lashing. Spare the lash or spoil 
your team. So it was not long before Rolf could guide 
them from the top of the load, as they travelled from stook 
to stook in the field. This voice of command saved his 
life, or at least his limb, one morning, for he made a mis- 
step that tumbled him down between the oxen and the 
wagon. At once the team started, but his ringing 
"Whoa!" brought them to a dead stop, and saved him; 
whereas, had it been Van's "Whoa!" it would have set 
them off at a run, for every shout from him meant a whip- 
lick to follow. 

Thus Rolf won the respect, if not the love, of the huge 
beasts; more and more they were his charge, and when, 
on that sad morning, in the last of the barley. Van came 
in, "Ach, vot shall I do! Vot shall I do! Dot Buck ox 
be nigh dead." 

Alas! there he lay on the ground, his head sometimes 
raised, sometimes stretched out fiat, while the huge creature 
uttered short moans at times. 

Only four years before, Rolf had seen that same thing 

271 




Rolf in the Woods 

at Redding. The rolling eye, the working of the belly 
muscles, the straining and moaning. ^'It's colic; have 
you any ginger?" 

"No, I haf only dot soft soap." 

What soft soap had to do with ginger was not clear, 
and Rolf wondered if it had some rare occult medical 
power that had escaped his mother. 

"Do you know where there's any slippery elm?" 

"Yah." 

"Then bring a big boiling of the bark, while I get some 
peppermint." 

The elm bark was boiled till it made a kettleful of 
brown slime. The peppermint was dried above the stove 
till it could be powdered, and mixed with the slippery 
slush. Some sulphur and some soda were discovered and 
stirred in, on general principles, and they hastened to the 
huge, helpless creature in the field. 

Poor Buck seemed worse than ever. He was flat on 
his side, with his spine humped up, moaning and straining 
at intervals. But now relief was in sight — so thought 
the men. With a tin dipper they tried to pour some relief 
into the open mouth of the sufferer, who had so little 
appreciation that he simply taxed his remaining strength 
to blow it out in their faces. Several attempts ended the 
same way. Then the brute, in what looked like temper, 
swung his muzzle and dashed the whole dipper away. 
Next they tried the usual method, mixing it with a bran 
mash, considered a delicacy in the bovine world, but Buck 
again took notice, under pressure only, to dash it away and 
waste it all. 

272 ^ 



The Sick Ox 

It occurred to them they might force it down his throat 
if they could raise his head. So they used a hand lever 
and a prop to elevate the muzzle, and were about to try 
another in-pour, when Buck leaped to his feet, and behav- 
ing Hke one who has been shamming, made at full gallop 
for the stable, nor stopped till safely in his stall, where 
at once he dropped in all the evident agony of a new spasm. 

It is a common thing for oxen to sham sick, but this was 
the real thing, and it seemed they were going to lose the 
ox, which meant also lose a large part of the harvest. 

In the stable, now, they had a better chance; they tied 
him, then raised his head with a lever till his snout was 
high above his shoulders. Now it seemed easy to pour 
the medicine down that long, sloping passage. But his 
mouth was tightly closed, any that entered his nostrils 
was blown afar, and the suffering beast strained at the 
rope till he seemed likely to strangle. 

Both men and ox were worn out with the struggle; 
the brute was no better, but rather worse. 

"Wall," said Rolf, "I've seen a good many ornery 
steers, but that's the orneriest I ever did handle, an' I 
reckon we'll lose him if he don't get that poison into 
him pretty soon." 

Oxen never were studied as much as horses, for they were 
considered a temporary shift, and every farmer looked 
forward to replacing them with the latter. Oxen were 
enormously strong, and they could flourish without grain 
when the grass was good; they never lost their head in a 
swamp hole, and ploughed steadily among all kinds of 
roots and stumps; but they were exasperatingly slow and 

273 







W^^^ 



Rolf in the Woods 

eternally tricky. Bright, being the trickier of the two, was 
made the nigh ox, to be more under control. Ordinarily 
Rolf could manage Buck easily, but the present situation 
seemed hopeless. In his memory he harked back to 
Redding days, and he recalled old Eli Gooch, the ox expert, 
and wondered what he would have done. Then, as he 
sat, he caught sight of the sick ox reaching out its head 
and deftly licking up a few drops of bran mash that had 
fallen from his yoke fellow's portion. A smile spread 
over Rolf's face. ''Just like you; you think nothing's 
good except it's stolen. All right; we'll see." He mixed 
a big dose of medicine, with bran, as before. Then he tied 
Bright's head so that he could not reach the ground, and 
set the bucket of mash half way between the two oxen. 
''Here ye are. Bright," he said, as a matter of form, and 
walked out of the stable; but, from a crack, he watched. 
Buck saw a chance to steal Bright's bran; he looked around; 
Oh, joy! his driver was away. He reached out cautiously; 
sniffed; his long tongue shot forth for a first taste, when 
Rolf gave a shout and ran in. "Hi, you old robber! 
Let that alone ; that's for Bright." 

The sick ox was very much in his own stall ^ow, and 
stayed there for some time after Rolf went to resume his 
place at the peephole. But encouraged by a few minutes 
of silence, he again reached out, and hastily gulped down 
a mouthful of the mixture before Rolf shouted and rushed 
in armed with a switch to punish the thief. Poor Bright, 
by his efforts to reach the tempting mash, was unwittingly 
playing the game, for this was proof positive of its 
desirableness. 

^74 r 



The Sick Ox 

After giving Buck a few cuts with the switch, Rolf 
retired, as before. Again the sick ox waited for silence, 
and reaching out with greedy haste, he gulped down the 
rest and emptied the bucket; seeing which, Rolf ran in 
and gave the rogue a final trouncing for the sake of 
consistency. 

Any one who knows what slippery elm, peppermint, 
soda, sulphur, colic, and ox do when thoroughly inter- 
incorporated will not be surprised to learn that in the 
morning the stable needed special treatment, and of all 
the mixture the ox was the only ingredient left on the 
active list. He was all right again, very thirsty, and not 
quite up to his usual standard, but, as Van said, after a 
careful look, "Ah, tell you vot, dot you vas a veil ox 
again, an' I t'ink I know not vot if you all tricky vas 
like Bright." 







275 



LVII 
Rolf and Skookum at Albany 

THE Red Moon (August) follows the Thunder 
Moon, and in the early part of its second week 
Rolf and Van, hauling in the barley and discussing 
the fitness of the oats, were startled by a most outrageous 
clatter among the hens. Horrid murder evidently was 
stalking abroad, and, hastening to the rescue, Rolf heard 
loud, angry barks; then a savage beast with a defunct 
*^ cackle party '^ appeared, but dropped the victim to 
bark and bound upon the ^'relief party" with ecstatic 
expressions of joy, in spite of Rolf's — "Skookum! you 
little brute!'' 

Yes! Quonab was back; that is, he was at the lake 
shore, and Skookum had made haste to plunge into the 
joys and gayeties of this social centre, without awaiting 
the formalities of greeting or even of dry-shod landing. 

The next scene was — a big, high post, a long, strong 
chain and a small, sad dog. 

"Ho, Quonab, you found your people? You had a good 
time?" 

"Ugh," was the answer, the whole of it, and all the light 
Rolf got for many a day on the old man's trip to the North. 

The prospect of going to Albany for Van Cortlandt was 

276 i 



Rolf and Skookum at Albany- 
much more attractive to Quonab than that of the harvest 
field, so a compromise was agreed on. Callan's barley 
was in the stook; if all three helped Callan for three days, 
Callan would owe them for nine, and so it was arranged. 

Again ''good-bye," and Rolf, Quonab, and little dog 
Skookum went sailing down the Schroon toward the junc- 
tion, where they left a cache of their supplies, and down 
the broadening Hudson toward Albany. 

Rolf had been over the road twice ; Quonab never before, 
yet his nose for water was so good and the sense of rapid 
and portage was so strong in the red man, that many 
times he was the pilot. "This is the way, because it 
must be"; ''there it is deep because so narrow"; "that 
rapid is dangerous, because there is such a well-beaten 
portage trail"; "that we can run, because I see it," or, 
"because there is no portage trail," etc. The eighty miles 
were covered in three sleeps, and in the mid-moon days 
of the Red Moon they landed at the dock in front of Peter 
Vandam's. If Quonab had any especial emotions for the 
occasion, he cloaked them perfectly under a calm and 
copper-coloured exterior of absolute immobility. 

Their Albany experiences included a meeting with the 
governor and an encounter with a broad and burly river 
pirate, who, seeing a lone and peaceable-looking red man, 
went out of his way to insult him; and when Quonab's 
knife flashed out at last, it was only his recently established 
relations with the governor's son that saved him from some 
very sad results, for there were many loafers about. But 
burly Vandam appeared in the nick of time to halt the 
small mob with the warning: "Don't you know that's 

277 



Rolf in the Woods 

Mr. van Cortlandt's guide?" With the governor and 
Vandam to back him, Quonab soon had the mob on his 
side, and the dock loafer's own friends pelted him with 
mud as he escaped. But not a Httle credit is due to 
Skookum, for at the critical moment he had sprung on 
the ruffian's bare and abundant leg with such toothsome 
effect that the owner fell promptly backward and the 
knife thrust missed. It was quickly over and Quonab 
replaced his knife, contemptuous of the whole crowd before, 
during and after the incid ent. Not at the time, but days 
later, he said of his foe: ''He was a talker; he was full of 
fear." 

With the backwoods only thirty miles away, and the 
unbroken wilderness one hundred, it was hard to believe 
how little Henry van Cortlandt knew of the woods and its 
life. He belonged to the ultra-fashionable set, and it was 
rather their pose to affect ignorance of the savage world 
and its ways. But he had plenty of common-sense to fall 
back on, and the inspiring example of Washington, equally 
at home in the nation's Parliament, the army intrench- 
ment, the glittering ball room, or the hunting lodge of the 
Indian, was a constant reminder that the perfect man is 
a harmonious development of mind, morals, and physique. 

His training had been somewhat warped by the ultra- 
classic fashion of the times, so he persisted in seeing in 
Quonab a sort of discoloured, barbaric clansman of Alaric 
or a camp follower of Xenophon's host, rather than an 
actual living, interesting, native American, exemplifying 
in the highest degree the sinewy, alert woodman, and the 
saturated mystic and pantheist of an age bygone and out 

278 




Rolf and Skookum at Albany 

of date, combined with a middle-measure intelligence. 
And Rolf, tall, blue-eyed with brown, curling hair, was 
made to pose as the youthful Achilles, rather than as a 
type of America's best young manhood, cleaner, saner, and 
of far higher ideals and traditions than ever were ascribed 
to Achilles by his most bHnded worshippers. It recalled 
the case of Wordsworth and Southey living side by side 
in England; Southey, the famous, must needs seek in 
ancient India for material to write his twelve-volume 
romance that no one ever looks at; Wordsworth, the un- 
known, wrote of the things of his own time, about his 
own door, and produced immortal verse. 

What should we think of Homer, had he sung his im- 
pressions of the ancient 'gyptians? or of Thackeray, had 
he novehzed the life of t . e Babylonians? It is an ancient 
blindness, with an ancit it wall to bruise one's head. It 
is only those who seek ointment of the consecrated clay 
that gives back sight, who see the shining way at their feet, 
who beat their face against no wall, who safely climb the 
heights. Henry van Cortlandt was a man of rare parts, 
of every advantage, but still he had been taught stead- 
fastly to live in the past. His eyes were yet to be opened. 
The living present was not his — but yet to be. 

The young lawyer had been assembling his outfit at 
Vandam's warehouse, for, in spite of scofhng friends, 
he knew that Rolf was coming back to him. 

When Rolf saw the pile of stuff that was gathered for 
that outfit, he stared at it aghast, then looked at Vandam, 
and together they roared. There was everything for 
light housekeeping and heavy doctoring, even chairs, a 

279 



Rolf in the Woods 

wash stand, a mirror, a mortar, and a pestle. Six canoes 
could scarcely have carried the lot. 

"'Tain't so much the young man as his mother," 
explained Big Pete; "at first I tried to make 'em under- 
stand, but it was no use; so I says, ^AU right, go ahead, 
as long as there's room in the warehouse.' I reckon I'll 
set on the fence and have some fun seein' Rolf ontangle 
the affair." 

"Phew, pheeeww — ph-e-e-e-e-w," was all Rolf could 
say in answer. But at last, "Wall, there's always a 
way. I sized him up as pretty level headed. We'll see," 

There was a way and it was easy, for, in a secret session, 
Rolf, Pete, and Van Cortlandt together sorted out the things 
needed. A small tent, blankets, extra clothes, guns, am- 
munition, delicate food for three months, a few medicines 
and toilet articles — a pretty good load for one canoe, but 
a trifle compared with the mountain of stuff piled up on 
the floor. 

"Now, Mr. van Cortlandt," said Rolf, "will you explain 
to your mother that we are going on with this so as to travel 
quickly, and will send back for the rest as we need it?" 

A quiet chuckle was now heard from Big Pete. " Good! 
I wondered how he'd settle it." 

The governor and his lady saw them off; therefore, 
there was a crowd. The mother never before had noted 
what a frail and dangerous thing a canoe is. She cau- 
tioned her son never to venture out alone, and to be sure 
that he rubbed his chest with the pectoral balm she had 
made from such and such a famous receipt, the one that 
saved the life but not the limb of old Governor Stuyvesant, 

280 



Rolf and Skookum at Albany 

and come right home if you catch a cold; and wait at the 
first camp till the other things come, and (in a whisper) 
keep away from that horrid red Indian with the knife, 
and never fail to let every one know who you are, and 
write regularly, and don't forget to take your calomel 
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, alternating with Peru- 
vian bark Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, and squills 
on Sunday, except every other week, when he should devote 
Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays to rhubarb and catnip 
tea, except in the full moon, when the catnip was to be 
replaced with graveyard bergamot and the squills with 
opodeldoc in which an iron nail had been left for a week. 

So Henry was embraced, Rolf was hand-shaken, Quonab 
was nodded at, Skookum was wisely let alone, and the 
trim canoe swung from the dock. Amid hearty cheers, 
farewells, and ''God speed ye's'' it breasted the flood for 
the North. 

And on the dock, with kerchief to her eyes, stood the 
mother, weeping to think that her boy was going far, far 
away from his home and friends in dear, cultured, refined 
Albany, away, away, to that remote and barbarous inac- 
cessible region almost to the shore land of Lake Champlain. 



^'ilA 



281 



a- 



LVIII 
Back to Indian Lake 

YOUNG Van Cortlandt, six feet two in his socks 
and thirty-four inches around the chest, was, 
as Rolf long afterward said, "awful good raw 
material, but awful raw." Two years out of college, 
half of which had been spent at the law, had done little 
but launch him as a physical weakling and a social star. 
But his mental make-up was more than good; it was of 
large promise. He lacked neither courage nor sense, 
and the course he now followed was surely the best for 
man-making. 

Rolf never realized how m-uch a farmer- woodman-canoe- 
man-hunter-camper had to know, until now he met a 
man who did not know anything, nor dreamed how 
many wrong ways there were of doing a job, till he saw 
his new companion try it. 

There is no single simple thing that is a more complete 
measure of one's woodcraft than the lighting of a fire. 
There are a dozen good ways and a thousand wrong ones. 
A man who can light thirty fires on thirty successive days 
with thirty matches or thirty sparks from flint and steel 
is a graduated woodman, for the feat presupposes experi- 
ence of many years and the skill that belongs to a winner. 

282 1 



Back to Indian Lake 

When Quonab and Rolf came back from taking each a 
load over the first little portage, they found Van Cortlandt 
getting ready for a fire with a great, solid pile of small 
logs, most of them wet and green. He knew how to use 
flint and steel, because that was the established household 
way of the times. Since childhood had he lighted the 
candle at home by this primitive means. When his pile 
of soggy logs was ready, he struck his flint, caught a spark 
on the tinder that is always kept on hand, blew it to a 
flame, thrust in between two of the wet logs, waited for 
all to blaze up, and wondered why the tiny blaze went 
out at once, no matter how often he tried. 

When the others came back, Van Cortlandt remarked: 
^'It doesn't seem to burn." The Indian turned away in 
silent contempt. Rolf had hard work to keep the forms 
of respect, until the thought came: ^^I suppose I looked 
just as big a fool in his world at Albany." 

*'See," said he, *' green wood and wet wood won't do, 
but yonder is some birch bark and there's a pine root." 
He took his axe and cut a few sticks from the root, then 
used his knife to make a sliver-fuzz of each; one piece, 
so resinous that it would not whittle, he smashed with 
the back of the axe into a lot of matchwood. With a 
handful of finely shredded birch bark he was now quite 
ready. A crack of the flint, a blowing of the spark caught 
on the tinder from the box, a little flame that at once was 
magnified by the birch bark, and in a minute the pine 
splinters made a sputtering fire. Quonab did not even 
pay Van Cortlandt the compliment of using one of his 
logs. He cut a growing poplar, built a fireplace of the 

283 










Rolf in the Woods 

green logs around the blaze that Rolf had made, and 
the meal was ready in a few minutes. 

Van Cortlandt was not a fool; merely it was all new to 
him. But his attention was directed to fire-making now, 
and long before they reached their cabin he had learned 
this, the first of the woodman's arts — he could lay and 
light a fire. And when, weeks later, he not only made 
the flint fire, but learned in emergency to make the rub- 
bing stick spark, his cup of joy was full. He felt he was 
learning. 

Determined to be in everything, now he paddled all 
day; at first with vigour, then mechanically, at last 
feebly and painfully. Late in the afternoon they made the 
first long portage; it was a quarter mile. Rolf took a 
hundred pounds, Quonab half as much more. Van 
Cortlandt tottered slowly behind with his pill-kit and his 
paddle. That night, on his ample mattress, he slept the 
sleep of utter exhaustion. Next day he did little and 
said nothing. It came on to rain; he raised a huge um- 
brella and crouched under it till the storm was over. 
But the third day he began to show signs of new life, 
and before they reached the Schroon's mouth, on the 
fifth day, his young frame was already responding to the 
elixir of the hills. 

It was very clear that they could not take half of the 
stuff that they had cached at the Schroon's mouth, so 
that a new adjustment was needed and still a cache to 
await another trip. 

That night as they sat by their sixth camp fire, Van 
Cortlandt pondered over the recent days, and they seemed 

284 



Back to Indian Lake 

many since he had left home. He felt much older and 
stronger. He felt not only less strange, but positively 
intimate with the life, the river, the canoe, and his com- 
rades; and, pleased with his winnings, he laid his hand 
on Skookum, slumbering near, only to arouse in response 
a savage growl, as that important animal arose and moved 
to the other side of the fire. Never did small dog give 
tall man a more deliberate snub. ^' You can't do that with 
Skookum; you must wait till he's ready," said Rolf. 

The journey up the Hudson with its "mean" waters 
and its "carries" was much as before. Then they came 
to the eagle's nest and the easy waters of Jesup's River, 
and without important incident they landed at the cabin. 
The feeling of "home again" spread over the camp and 
every one was gay. 



\ '•*• \ S'' S, ^'^ 



JX ^ -w, ^ .^ :^/ 



285 



LIX 

Van Cortlandt^s Drugs 

AIN'T ye feelin' all right?" said Rolf, one bright, 
calomel morning, as he saw Van Cortlandt pre- 
paring his daily physic. 

''Why, yes; I'm feeling fine; I'm better every day," 
was the jovial reply. 

*' Course I don't know, but my mother used to say: 
'Med'cine's the stuff makes a sick man well, an' a well man 
sick.'" 

''M}^ mother and your mother would have fought at 
sight, as you may judge. B-u-t," he added with re- 
flective slowness, and a merry twinkle in his eye, *4f 
things were to be judged by their product, I am afraid 
your mother would win easily," and he laid his long, thin, 
scrawny hand beside the broad, strong hand of the growing 
youth. 

*'01d Sylvanne wasn't far astray when he said: 'There 
aren't any sick, 'cept them as thinks they are,'" said Rolf. 

''I suppose I ought to begin to taper off," was the 
reply. But the tapering was very sudden. Before a 
week went by, it seemed desirable to go back for the stuff 
left in cache on the Schroon, where, of course, it was sub- 
ject to several risks. There seemed no object in taking 

286 i 



Van Cortlandt^s Drugs 

Van Cortlandt back, but they could not well leave him 
alone. He went. He had kept time with fair regularity — 
calomel, rhubarb; calomel, rhubarb; calomel, rhubarb, 
squills — but Rolf's remarks had sunk into his intelli- 
gence, as a red-hot shot will sink through shingles, letting 
in light and creating revolution. 

This was a rhubarb morning. He drank his potion, 
then, carefully stoppering the bottle, he placed it with 
its companions in a box and stowed that near the middle 
of the canoe. ''I'll be glad when it's finished," he said 
reflectively; "I don't beheve I need it now. I wish 
sometimes I could run short of it all." 

That was what Rolf had been hoping for. Without 
such a remark, he would not have dared do as he did. 
He threw the tent cover over the canoe amidships, caus- 
ing the unstable craft to cant: "That won't do," he 
remarked, and took out several articles, including the 
medicine chest, put them ashore under the bushes, and, 
when he replaced them, contrived that the medicine should 
be forgotten. 

Next morning Van Cortlandt, rising to prepare his 
calomel, got a shock to find it not. 

"It strikes me," says Rolf, "the last time I saw that, 
it was on the bank when we trimmed the canoe." 

Yes, there could be no doubt of it. Van must live his 
Hfe in utter druglessness for a time. It gave him some- 
what of a scare, much like that a young swimmer gets 
when he finds he has drifted away from his floats; and, 
like that same beginner, it braced him to help himself. 
So Van found that he could swim without corks, 

287 



Rolf in the Woods 

They made a rapid journey down, and in a week they 
were back with the load. 

There was the potion chest where they had left it. Van 
Cortlandt picked it up with a sheepish smile, and they sat 
down for evening meal. Presently Rolf said: ^'I mind 
once I seen three little hawks in a nest together. The 
mother was teaching them to fly. Two of them started 
off all right, and pretty soon were scooting among the tree- 
tops. The other was scared. He says: 'No, mother, 
I never did fly, and I'm scared I'd get killed if I tried.' 
At last the mother got mad and shoved him over. As 
soon as he felt he was gone, he spread out his wings to 
save himself. The wings were all right enough, and long 
before he struck the ground, he was flying." 




288 



LX 

Van Cortlandt^s Adventure 

THE coming of Van had compelled the trappers to 
build a new and much larger cabin. When they 
were planning it, the lawyer said: *'If I were 
you, I^d make it twenty by thirty, with a big stone fire- 
place." 

^'Why?" 

"I might want to come back some day and bring a 
friend." 

Rolf looked at him keenly. Here was an important 
possibility, but it was too difficult to handle such large 
logs without a team; so the new cabin was made fifteen 
by twenty, and the twenty-foot logs were very slim indeed. 
Van Cortlandt took much trouble to fix it up inside with 
two white birch bedsteads, balsam beds, and basswood 
mats on the floor. 

After the first depression, he had recovered quickly 
since abandoning his apothecary diet, and now he was 
more and more in their life, one of themselves. But 
Quonab never liked him. The incident of the fire-making 
was one of many which reduced him far below zero in 
the red man's esteem. When he succeeded with the rub- 
bing-stick fire, he rose a few points; since then he had 

289 




Rolf in the Woods 

fallen a little, nearly every day, and now an incident took 
place which reduced him even below his original low level. 

In spite of his admirable perseverance. Van Cortlandt 
failed in his attempts to get a deer. This was depressing 
and unfortunate because of the Indian's evident contempt, 
shown, not in any act, but rather in his avoiding Van and 
never noticing him ; while Van, on his part, discovered that, 
but for this, that, and the other negligence on Quonab's 
part, he himself might have done thus and so. 

To relieve the situation, Rolf said privately to the In- 
dian, 'Xan't we find some way of giving him a deer?" 

^' Humph," was the voluble reply. 

*^I've heard of that jack-light trick. Can ye work it?" 

''Ugh!" 

So it was arranged. 

Quonab prepared a box which he filled with sand. 
On three sides of it he put a screen of bark, eighteen 
inches high, and in the middle he made a good torch of 
pine knots with a finely frizzled lighter of birch bark. 
Ordinarily this is placed on the bow of the canoe, and, at 
the right moment, is lighted by the sportsman. But 
Quonab distrusted Van as a lighter, so placed this ancient 
search-light on the after thwart in front of himself and 
pointing forward, but quartering. 

The scheme is to go along the lake shore about dark, 
as the deer come to the water to drink or eat lily pads. 
As soon as a deer is located by the sound, the canoe is 
silently brought to the place, the torch is lighted, the deer 
stops to gaze at this strange sunrise; its body is not 
usually visible in the dim light, but the eyes reflect thq 

2^0 



Van Coi^tlandt^s Adventure 

glare like two lamps; and now the gunner, with a volley 
of buckshot, plays his part. It is the easiest and most 
unsportsmanlike of all methods. It has long been 
declared illegal; and was especially bad, because it 
victimized chiefly the does and fawns. 

But now it seemed the proper way to "save Van Cort- 
landt's face." 

So forth they went; Van armed with his double- 
barrelled shotgun and carrying in his belt a huge and or- 
namental hunting knife, the badge of woodcraft or of 
idiocy, according as you took Van's view or Quonab's. 
Rolf stayed in camp. 

At dusk they set out, a slight easterly breeze com- 
pelling them to take the eastern shore, for the deer must 
not smell them. As they silently crossed the lake, the 
guide's quick eye caught sight of a long wimple on the 
surface, across the tiny ripples of the breeze — surely the 
wake of some large animal, most likely a deer. Good 
luck. Putting on all speed, he sent the canoe flying 
after it, and in three or four minutes they sighted a large, 
dark creature moving fast to escape, but it was low on 
the water, and had no horns. They could not make out 
what it was. Van sat tensely gazing, with gun in hand, 
but the canoe overran the swimmer; it disappeared under 
the prow, and a moment later there scrambled over the 
gunwale a huge black fisher. 

"Knife," cried Quonab, in mortal fear that Van would 
shoot and blow a hole throught the canoe. 

The fisher went straight at the lawyer hissing and 
snarling with voice like a bear. 

291 




^^'t^h^t 



Oi^ 



Rolf in the Woods 

Van grasped his knife, and then and there began a 
most extraordinary fight; holding his assailant off as 
best he could, he stabbed again and again with that long 
blade. But the fisher seemed cased in iron. The knife 
glanced off or was soUdly stopped again and again, while 
the fierce, active creature, squirming, struggHng, clawing, 
and tearing had wounded the lawyer in a dozen places. 
Jab, jab went the knife in vain. The fisher seemed to 
gain in strength and fury. It fastened on Van's leg just 
below the knee, and growled and tore like a bulldog. 
Van seized its throat in both hands and choked with all 
his strength. The brute at length let go and sprang back 
to attack again, when Quonab saw his chance and felled 
it with a blow of the paddle across the nose. It tumbled 
forward; Van lunged to avoid what seemed a new attack, 
and in a moment the canoe upset, and all were swimming 
for their lives. 

As luck would have it, they had drifted to the west 
side and the water was barely six feet deep. So Quonab 
swam ashore holding onto a paddle, and hauling the 
canoe, while Van waded ashore, hauling the dead fisher 
by the tail. 

Quonab seized a drift pole and stuck it in the mud as 
near the place as possible, so they could come again in 
daylight to get the guns; then silently paddled back to 
camp. 

Next day, thanks to the pole, they found the place 
and recovered first Van^s gun, second, that mighty hunting 
knife; and learned to the amazement and disgust 
of all that it had not been out of its sheath: during all 

292 , 



Van Cortlandt^s Adventure 

that stabbing and slashing, the keen edge was hidden 
and the knife was wearing its thick, round scabbard of 
leather and studs of brass. 



V 




'^■?1^' 



293 



LXI 

Rolf Learns Something from Van 

A man can't handle his own case, any more than a delirious doctor kin give 
himself the right physic. — Sayings o^ Si Sylvanne. 

HOWEVER superior Rolf might feel in the canoe 
or the woods, there was one place where Van 
Cortlandt took the lead, and that was in the long 
talks they had by the campfire or in Van's own shanty 
which Quonab rarely entered. 

The most interesting subjects treated in these were 
ancient Greece and modern Albany. Van Cortlandt was 
a good Greek scholar, and, finding an intelligent listener, 
he told the stirring tales of royal Ilion, Athens, and Per- 
gamos, with the loving enthusiasm of one whom the 
teachers found it easy to instruct in classic lore. And 
when he recited or intoned the rolling Greek heroics of 
the siege of Troy, Rolf listened with an interest that was 
strange, considering that he knew not a word of it. But 
he said, ''It sounded like real talk, and the tramp of men 
that were all astir with something big a-doing." 

Albany and politics, too, were vital strains, and life at the 
Government House, with the struggling rings and cabals, 
social and political. These were extraordinarily funny 

294 i 



Rolf Learns Something from Van 



and whimsical to Rolf. No doubt because Van Cort- 
landt presented them that way. And he more than 
once wondered how rational humans could waste their 
time in such tom-foolery and childish things as all con- 
ventionalities seemed to be. Van Cortlandt smiled at 
his remarks, but made no answer ioec long. 

One day, the first after the completion of Van Cort- 
landt' s cabin, as the two approached, the owner opened 
the door and stood aside for Rolf to enter. 

^'Go ahead," said Rolf. 

^ ' After y ou, ' ' was the poli te reply. 

*'0h, go on," rejoined the lad, in mixed amusement 
and impatience. 

Van Cortlandt touched his hat and went in. 

Inside, Rolf turned squarely and said: ^'The other 
day you said there was a reason for all kinds o' social 
tricks; now will you tell me what the dickens is the why 
of all these funny-do's? It 'pears to me a free-born 
American didn't ought to take off his hat to any one but 
God." 

Van Cortlandt chuckled softly and said: "You may 
be very sure that everything that is done in the way of 
social usage is the result of common-sense, with the ex- 
ception of one or two things that have continued after 
the reason for them has passed, like the buttons you have 
behind on your coat; they were put there originally to 
button the tails out of the way of your sword. Sword 
wearing and using have passed away, but still you see 
the buttons. 

*^ As to taking off your hat to no man: it depends en- 

295 




Rolf in the Woods 

tirely on what you mean by it; and, being a social custom, 
you must accept its social meaning. 

"In the days of knight errantry, every one meeting 
a stranger had to suppose him an enemy; ten to one he 
was. And the sign and proof of friendly intention was 
raising the right hand without a weapon in it. The hand 
was raised high, to be seen as far as they could shoot 
with a bow, and a further proof was added when they raised 
the vizor and exposed the face. The danger of the high- 
way continued long after knights ceased to wear armour; 
so, with the same meaning, the same gesture was used, 
but with a lifting of the hat. If a man did not do it, he 
was either showing contempt, or hostility for the other, 
or proving himself an ignorant brute. So, in all civilized 
countries, lifting the hat is a sign of mutual confidence 
and respect." 

"Well! that makes it all look different. But why 
should you touch your hat when you went ahead of me 
just now?" 

"Because this is my house; you are my guest. I am 
supposed to serve you in reasonable ways and give you 
precedence. Had I let you open my door for me, it would 
have been putting you in the place of my servant; to 
balance that, I give you the sign of equality and respect." 

"H^m," said Rolf, "^it just shows,' as old Sylvanne 
sez, 'this yer steel- trap, hair-trigger, cocksure jedgment 
don't do. An' the more a man learns, the less sure he 
gits. An' things as hez lasted a long time ain't liable to 
be on a rotten foundation.'" 



296 



w 



LXII 

The Qiarm of Song 

ITH a regular turn ta turn ta^ came a weird 
sound from the sunrise rock one morning, as 
Van slipped out of his cabin. 

"Ag-aj-way-o-say Pem-d-say 
Gezhik-om ena-bid ah-keen 
Ena-bid ah-keen" 

^^What's he doing, Rolf?'' 

*' That's his sunrise prayer," was the answer. 

*^Do you know what it means?" 

*'Yes, it ain't much; jest 'Oh, thou that walkest in the 
sky in the morning, I greet thee.' " 

^'Why, I didn't know Indians had such performances; 
that's exactly like the priests of Osiris. Did any one 
teach him ? I mean any white folk." 

^'No, it's always been the Indian way. They have a 
song or a prayer for most every big event, sunrise, sunset, 
moonrise, good hunting, and another for when they're 
sick, or when they're going on a journey, or when their 
heart is bad." 

''You astonish me. I had no idea they were so human. 
It carries me back to the temple of Delphi. It is worthy 
of Cassandra of Ilion. I supposed all Indians were just 

297 




Rolf in the Woods 

savage Indians that hunted till their bellies were full, 
and slept till they were empty again." 

"H'm," rejoined Rolf, with a gentle laugh. "I see you 
also have been doing some 'hair-trigger, steel- trap, cock- 
sure jedgin'.'" 

''I wonder if he'd like to hear some of my songs? '^ 

"It's worth trying; anyway, I would," said Rolf. 

That night, by the fire, Van sang the ''Gay Cavalier," 
''The Hunting of John Peel," and ''Bonnie Dundee." 
He had a fine baritone voice. He was most acceptable in 
the musical circles of Albany. Rolf was delighted, Skoo- 
kum moaned sympathetically, and Quonab sat nor moved 
till the music was over. He said nothing, but Rolf felt 
that it was a point gained, and, trying to follow it up, said : 

"Here's your drum, Quonab; won't you sing 'The 
Song of the Wabanaki?'" But it was not well timed, 
and the Indian shook his head. 

"Say, Van," said Rolf, (Van Cortlandt had suggested 
this abbreviation) "you '11 never stand right with Quonab 
till you kill a deer." 

"I've done some trying." 

"Well, now, we '11 go out to-morrow evening and try 
once more. What do you think of the weather, Quonab? " 

"Storm begin noon and last three days," was the brief 
answer, as the red man walked away. 

"That settles it," said Rolf; "we wait." 

Van was surprised, and all the more so when in an hour 
the sky grew black and heavy rain set in, with squalls. 

"How in the name of Belshazzar's weather bugler does 
he tell?" 

298 



The Qiarm of Song 

"I guess you better not ask him, if you want to know. 
I'll find out and tell you later." 

Rolf learned, not easily or at single talk: 

''Yesterday the chipmunks worked hard; to-day there 
are none to be seen. 

''Yesterday the loons were wailing; now they are still, 
and no small birds are about. 

"Yesterday it was a yellow sunrise; to-day a rosy dawn. 

"Last night the moon changed and had a thick little 
ring. 

"It has not rained for ten days, and this is the third 
day of easterly winds. 

" There was no dew last night. I saw Tongue Mountain 
at daybreak; my tom-tom will not sing. 

"The sm.oke went three ways at dawn, and Skookum's 
nose was hot." 

So they rested, not knowing, but forced to believe, 
and it was not till the third day that the sky broke; the 
west wind began to pay back its borrowings from the 
east, and the saying was proved that "three days' rain 
will empty any sky." 

That evening, after their meal, Rolf and Van launched 
the canoe and paddled down the lake. A mile from cam.p 
they landed, for this was a favourite deer run. Very 
soon Rolf pointed to the ground. He had found a per- 
fectly fresh track, but Van seemed not to comprehend. 
They went along it, Rolf softly and silently. Van with 
his long feet and legs making a dangerous amount of 
clatter. Rolf turned and whispered, "That won't do. 
You must not stand on dry sticks." Van endeavoured 

299 








Rolf in the Woods 

to move more cautiously and thought he was doing well, 
but Rolf found it very trying to his patience and began to 
understand how Quonab had felt about himself a year 
ago. *'See," said Rolf, "lift your legs so; don't turn 
your feet out that way. Look at the place before you put 
it down again; feel with your toe to make sure there is 
no dead stick, then wriggle it down to the solid ground. 
Of course, you'd do better in moccasins. Never brush 
past any branches; lift them aside and don't let them 
scratch; ease them back to the place; never try to bend 
a dry branch; go around it," etc. Van had not thought 
of these things, but now he grasped them quickly, and they 
made a wonderful improvement in his way of going. 

They came again to the water's edge; across a little 
bay Rolf sighted at once the form of a buck, perfectly 
still, gazing their way, wondering, no doubt, what made 
those noises. 

"Here's your chance," he whispered. 

"Where?" was the eager query. 

"There; see that gray and white thing?" 

"I can't see him." 

For five minutes Rolf tried in vain to make his friend 
see that statuesque form ; for five minutes it never moved. 
Then, sensing danger, the buck gave a bound and was 
lost to view. 

It was disheartening. Rolf sat down, nearly disgusted; 
then one of Sylvanne's remarks came to him: "It don't 
prove any one a fool, coz he can't play your game." 

Presently Rolf said, "Van, hev ye a book with ye?" 

"Yes, I have my Virgil." 

300 \ 



The Qiarm of Song 

^'Read me the first page." 

Van read it, holding the book six inches from his nose. 

"Let's see ye read this page there," and Rolf held 
it up four feet away. 

'*I can't; it's nothing but a dim white spot." 

"Well, can ye see that loon out there?" 

"You mean that long, dark thing in the bay?" 

"No, that's a pine log close to," said Rolf, with a laugh, 
"away out half a mile." 

"No, I can't see anything but shimmers." 

"I thought so. It's no use your trying to shoot deer 
till ye get a pair of specs to fit yer eyes. You have brains 
enough, but you haven't got the eyesight of a hunter. 
You stay here till I go see if I have any luck." 

Rolf melted into the woods. In twenty minutes Van 
heard a shot and very soon Rolf reappeared, carrying a 
two-year-old buck, and they returned to their camp by 
nightfall. Quonab glanced at their faces as they passed 
carrying the little buck. They tried to look inscrutable. 
But the Indian was not deceived. He gave out nothing 
but a sizzling "Humph ! " 




301 



LXill 
The Redemption of Van 

WHEN things is looking black as black can be, it's 
a sure sign of luck coming your way." So said 
Si Sylvanne, and so it proved to Van Cortlandt. 
The Moon of the Falling Leaves was waning, October 
was nearly over, the day of his return to Albany was near, 
as he was to go out in time for the hunters to return in 
open water. He was wonderfully improved in strength 
and looks. His face was brown and ruddy. He had 
abandoned all drugs, and had gained fully twenty pounds 
in weight. He had learned to make a fire, paddle a canoe, 
and go through the woods in semi-silence. His scholarly 
talk had given him large place in Rolf's esteem, and his 
sweet singing had furnished a tiny little shelf for a modicum 
of Quonab's respect. But his attempts to get a deer were 
failures. ''You come back next year with proper, far- 
sight glasses and you '11 be all right," said Rolf; and that 
seemed the one ray of hope. 

The three days' storm had thrown so many trees that 
the hunters decided it would be worth while making a 
fast trip down to Eagle's Nest, to cut such timber as 
might have fallen across the stream, and so make an 
easy way for when they should have less time. 

302 \ 



The Redemption of Van 

The surmise was quite right. Much new-fallen timber 
was now across the channel. They chopped over twenty- 
five trunks before they reached Eagle's Nest at noon, and, 
leaving the river in better shape than ever it was, they 
turned, for the swift, straight, silent run of ten miles home. 

As they rounded the last point, a huge black form in 
the water loomed to view. Skookum's bristles rose. 
Quonab whispered, ^' Moose! Shoot quick!" Van was 
the only one with a gun. The great black beast stood for 
a moment, gazing at them with wide-open eyes, ears, 
and nostrils, then shook his broad horns, wheeled, and 
dashed for the shore. Van fired and the bull went down 
with a mighty splash among the lilies. Rolf and Skookum 
let off a succession of most unhunterlike yells of triumph. 
But the giant sprang up again and reached the shore, only 
to fall to Van Cortlandt's second barrel. Yet the stop 
was momentary; he rose and dashed into the cover. 
Quonab turned the canoe at once and made for the land. 

A great sob came from the bushes, then others at in- 
tervals. Quonab showed his teeth and pointed. Rolf 
seized his rifle, Skookum sprang from the boat, and a 
little later was heard letting off his war-cry in the bushes 
not far away. 

The men rushed forward, guns in hand, but Quonab 
called. ^'Lookout! Maybe he waiting.'* 

''If he is, he '11 likely get one of us." said Rolf, with a 
light laugh, for he had some hearsay knowledge of moose. 

Covered each by a tree, they waited till Van had re- 
loaded his double-barrelled, then cautiously approached. 
The great frothing sobs had resounded from time to time. 




1 1 1 T 



Rolf in the Woods 

Skookum^s voice also was heard in the thicket, and when 
they neared and glimpsed the place, it was to see the 
monster on the ground, lying at full length, flinging up his 
head at times when he uttered that horrid sound of pain. 

The Indian sent a bullet through the moose's brain; 
then all was still, the tragedy was over. 

But now their attention was turned to Van Cortlandt. 
He reeled, staggered, his knees trembled, his face turned 
white, and, to save himself from falling, he sank onto a 
log. Here he covered his face with his hands, his feet 
beat the ground, and his shoulders heaved up and down. 

The others said nothing. They knew by the signs 
and the sounds that it was only through a mighty effort 
that young Van Cortlandt, grown man as he was, could 
keep himself from hysterical sobs and tears. 

Not then, but the next day it was that Quonab said: 
"It comes to some after they kill, to some before, as 
it came to you, Rolf; to me it came the day I killed 
my first chipmunk, that time when I stole my father's 
medicine." 

They had ample work for several hours now, to skin 
the game and save the meat. It was fortunate they were 
so near home. A marvellous change there was in the 
atmosphere of the camp. Twice Quonab spoke to Van 
Cortlandt, as the latter laboured with them to save and 
store the meat of Ms moose. He was rubbed, doped, 
soiled, and anointed with its flesh, hair, and blood, and 
that night, as they sat by their camp fire, Skookum arose, 
stretched, j^awned, walked around deliberately, put his 
nose in the lawyer's hand, gave it a lick, then lay down 

304 



The Redemption of Van 

by his feet. Van Cortlandt glanced at Rolf, a merry 
twinkle was in the eyes of both. "It's all right. You 
can pat Skookum now, without risk of being crippled. 
He's sized you up. You are one of us at last;" and Quonab 
looked on with two long ivory rows a-gleaming in his 
smile. 



"•i 







30s 



LXIV 



Dinner at the Governor's 




.CA 



WAS ever there a brighter blazing sunrise after 
such a night of gloom? Not only a deer, but the 
biggest of all deer, and Van himself the only one 
of the party that had ever killed a moose. The skin was 
removed and afterward made into a hunting coat for 
the victor. The head and horns were carefully preserved 
to be carried back to Albany, where they were mounted 
and still hang in the hall of a later generation of the name. 
The final days at the camp were days of happy feeling; 
they passed too soon, and the long-legged lawyer, bronzed 
and healthy looking, took his place in their canoe for the 
flying trip to Albany. With an empty canoe and three 
paddles (two and one half, Van said), they flew down the 
open stretch of Jesup's River in something over two hours, 
and camped that night fully thirty-five miles from their 
cabin. The next day they nearly reached the Schroon 
and in a week they rounded the great bend, and Albany 
hove in view. 

How Van's heart did beat! How he did exult to come 
in triumph home, reestablished in health and strengthened 
in every way. They were sighted and recognized. Mes- 
sengers were seen running; a heavy gun was fired, the 

306 



Mm 



Dinner at the Governor's 

flag run up on the Capitol, bells set a-ringing, many people 
came running, and more flags ran up on vessels. 

A great crowd gathered by the dock. 

"There's father, and mother too!" shouted Van, waving 
his hat. 

"Hurrah," and the crowd took it up, while the bells 
went jingle, jangle, and Skookum in the bow sent back 
his best in answer. 

The canoe was dragged ashore. Van seized his mother 
in his arms, as she cried: "My boy, my boy, my darling 
boy! how well you look. Oh, why didn't you write? 
But, thank God, you are back again, and looking so healthy 
and strong. I know you took your squills and opodeldoc. 
Thank God for that ! Oh, I'm so happy ! my boy, my boy! 
There's nothing like squills and God's blessing." 

Rolf and Quonab were made to feel that they had a 
part in it all. The governor shook them warmly by the 
hand, and then a friendly voice was heard: "Wall, boy, 
here ye air agin; growed a little, settin' up and sassin' 
back, same as ever." Rolf turned to see the gigantic, 
angular form and kindly face of grizzly old Si Sylvanne and 
was still more surprised to hear him addressed "senator." 

"Yes," said the senator, "one o' *them freak felec- 
tions that sometimes hits right; great luck for Albany, 
wa'nt it?" 

"Ho," said Quonab, shaking the senator's hand, while 
Skookum looked puzzled and depressed. 

"Now, remember," said the governor, addressing the 
Indian, the lad, and the senator, "we expect you to dine 
to-night at the mansion; seven o'clock." 

307 




Rolf in the Woods 

Then the terror of the dragon conventionality, that 
guards the gate and hovers over the feast, loomed up in 
Rolf's imagination. He sought a private word with Van. 
*^I'm afraid I have no fit clothes; I shan't know how to 
behave," he said. 

''Then I'll show you. The first thing is to be per- 
fectly clean and get a shave; put on the best clothes you 
have, and be sure they're clean; then you come at exactly 
seven o'clock, knowing that every one is going to be kind 
to you and you're bound to have a good time. As to 
any other 'funny-do' you watch me, and you'll have no 
trouble." 

So when the seven o'clock assemblage came, and guests 
were ascending the steps of the governor's mansion, 
there also mounted a tall, slim youth, an easy-pacing 
Indian, and a prick-eared, yellow dog. Young Van 
Cortlandt was near the door, on watch to save them any 
embarrassment. But what a swell he looked, clean- 
shaven, ruddy, tall, and handsome in the uniform of an 
American captain, surrounded by friends and immensely 
popular. How different it all was from that lonely cabin 
by the lake. 

A butler who tried to remove Skookum was saved from 
mutilation by the intervention first of Quonab and next 
of Van; and when they sat down, this uncompromising 
four-legged child of the forest ensconced himself under 
Quonab's chair alid growled whenever the silk stockings 
of the footman seemed to approach beyond the line of 
true respect. 

Young Van Cortlandt was chief talker at the dinner, 

308 ^ 



Dinner at the Governor's 

but a pompous military man was prominent in the com- 
pany. Once or twice Rolf was addressed by the governor 
or Lady Van Cortlandt, and had to speak to the whole 
table; his cheeks were crimson, but he knew what he 
wanted to say and stopped when it was said, so suffered 
no real embarrassment. 

After what seemed an interminable feast of countless 
dishes and hours' duration, an extraordinary change set 
in. Led by the hostess, all stood up, the chairs were 
lifted out of their way, and the ladies trooped into another 
room; the doors were closed, and the men sat down again 
at the end next the governor. 

Van stayed by Rolf and explained: ^'This is another 
social custom that began with a different meaning. Oiie 
hundred years ago, every man got drunk at every formal 
dinner, and carried on in a way that the ladies did not 
care to see, so to save their own feelings and give the men 
a free rein, the ladies withdrew. Nowadays, men are not 
supposed to indulge in any such orgy, but the custom 
continues, because it gives the men a chance to smoke, 
and the ladies a chance to discuss matters that do not in- 
terest the men. So again you see it is backed by common- 
sense. '^ 

This proved the best part of the dinner to Rolf. There 
was a peculiar sense of over-politeness, of insincerity, 
almost, while the ladies were present; the most of the 
talking had been done by young Van Cortlandt and certain 
young ladies, assisted by some very gay young men and 
the general. Their chatter was funny, but nothing more. 
Now a different air was on the group; different subjects 

309 



Rolf in the Woods 

were discussed, and by different men, in a totally different 
manner. 

^' We've stood just about all we can stand," said the 
governor, alluding to an incident newly told, of a British 
frigate boarding an American merchant vessel by force 
and carrying off half her crew, under pretence that they 
were British seamen in disguise. "That's been going on 
for three years now. It's either piracy or war, and, in 
either case, it's our duty to fight." 

"Jersey's dead against war," said a legislator from 
down the river. 

"Jersey always was dead against everything that was 
for the national good, sir," said a red-faced, puffy, military 
man, with a husky voice, a rolling eye, and a way of ending 
every sentence in ' ' sir." 

*'So is Connecticut," said another; "they say, ^Look 
at all our defenceless coasts and harbour towns.' " 

*' They're not risking as much as New York," answered 
the governor, "with her harbours all the way up the Hudson 
and her back door open to invasion from Canada." 

*' Fortunately, sir, Pennyslvania, Maryland, and the 
West have not forgotten the glories of the past. All I 
ask — is a chance to show what we can do, sir. I long for 
the smell of powder once more, sir." 

^'I understand that President Madison has sent several 
protests, and, in spite of Connecticut and New Jersey, 
will send an ultimatum within three months. He beheves 
that Britain has all she can manage, with Napoleon and 
his allies battering at her doors, and will not risk a war. 

"It's my opinion," said Sylvanne; "that these English- 

310 ^ 




Dinner at the Governor's 

men is too pig-headed an^ ornery to care a whoop in hell 
whether we get mad or not. They've a notion Paul 
Jones is dead, but I reckon we've got plenty of the breed 
only waitin' a chance. Mor'n twenty-five of our mer- 
chantmen wrecked each year through being stripped of 
their crews by a 'friendly power.' 'Pears to me we 
couldn't be worse off going to war, an' might be a dum 
sight better." 

*'Your home an' holdings are three hundred safe miles 
from the seacoast," objected the man from Manhattan. 

''Yes, and right next Canada," was the reply. 

*'The continued insults to our flag, sir, and the personal 
indignities offered to our people are even worse than the 
actual loss in ships and goods. It makes my blood fairly 
boil," and the worthy general looked the part as his 
purple jowl quivered over his white cravat. 
r^-"Gosh all hemlock! the one pricks, but t'other festers. 
[t's tarnal sure you steal a man's dinner and tell him he's 
one o' nature's noblemen, he's more apt to love you 
than if you give him five dollars to keep out o' your sight," 
said Sylvanne, with slow emphasis. 

"There's something to be said on the other side," 
said the timid one. ''You surely allow that the British 
government is trying to do right, and after all we must 
admit that that Jilson affair reflected very Httle credit 
on our own administration." 

"A man ken make one awful big mistake an' still be 
all right, but he can't go on making a little mistake every 
day right along an' be fit company for a clean crowd," 
retorted the new senator. 

311 




iiicKcri 



Rolf in the Woods 






At length the governor rose and led the way to the 
drawing-room, where they rejoined the ladies and the 
conversation took on a different colour and weight, by 
which it lost all value for those who knew not the art of 
twittering persiflage and found less joy in a handkerchief 
flirtation than in the nation's onward march. Rolf and 
Quonab enjoyed it now about as much as Skookum had 
done all the time. 



312 



LXV 

The Grebes and the Singing Mouse 

QUONAB puzzled long over the amazing fact that 
young Van Cortlandt had evident high standing 
''in his own tribe." ''He must be a wise coun- 
sellor, for I know he cannot fight and is a fool at hunting," 
was the ultimate decision. 

They had a final interview with the governor and his 
son before they left. Rolf received for himself and his 
partner the promised one hundred and fifty dollars, and 
the hearty thanks of all in the governor's home. Next, 
each was presented with a handsome hunting knife, 
not unlike the one young Van had carried, but smaller. 
Quonab received his with "Ho!" — then, after a pause, 
"He pull out, maybe, when I need him." — "Ho! good!'* 
he exclaimed, as the keen blade appeared. 

"Now, Rolf," said the lawyer, "I want to come back 
next year and bring three companions, and we will pay you 
at the same rate per month for each. What do you say? " 

"Glad to have you again," said Rolf: "we'll come for 
you on August fifteenth; but remember you should bring 
your guitar and your spectacles." 

"One word," said the governor, "do you know the 
canoe route through Champlain to Canada? " ^ f 

313 




Rolf in the Woods 

"Quonab does." 

W*' Could you undertake to render scout service in that 
region?" 
#^«out The Indian nodded. 

Stouiinf ^'In case of war, we may need you both, so keep your 
ears open." 

And once more the canoe made for the north, with 
Quonab in the stern and Skookum in the bow. 

In less than a week they were home, and none too soon; 
for already the trees were bare, and they had to break 
the ice on the river before they ended their trip. 

Rolf had gathered many ideas the last two months. 
He did not propose to continue all his life as a trapper. 
He wanted to see New York. He wanted to plan for the 
future. He needed money for his plans. He and Quonab 
had been running a hundred miles of traps, but some men 
run more than that single handed. They must get 
out two new lines at once, before the frost came. One 
of these they laid up the Hudson, above Eagle's Nest; 
the other northerly on Blue Mountain, toward Racquet 
River. Doing this was hard work, and when they came 
again to their cabin the robins had gone from the bleak and 
leafless woods; the grouse were making long night flights; 
the hollows had tracks of racing deer; there was a sense of 
omen, a length of gloom, for the Mad Moon was afloat in 
the shimmering sky; its wan light ghasted all the hills. 

Next day the lake was covered with thin, glare ice; 
on the glassy surface near the shore were two ducks 
floundering. The men went as near as they could, and 
Quonab said, "No, not duck, but Shingebis, divers. 

314 



/^*. ^^^ 



The Grebes and the Singing Mouse 

They cannot rise except from water. In the night the 
new ice looks Hke water; they come down and cannot 
rise. I have often seen it." Two days after, a harder 
frost came on. The ice was safe for a dog; the divers 
or grebes were still on its surface. So they sent Skookum. 
He soon returned with two beautiful grebes, whose shining, 
white breast feathers are as much prized as some furs. ^ 

Quonab grunted as he held them up. ^'Ugh, it is ^1^ 

often so in this Mad Moon. My father said it is because 
of Kaluskap's dancing." y^'ti, 

"I don't remember that one." ^'n\ if 

*'Yes, long ago. Kaluskap felt lazy. He wanted to ^^^•*^"'^ 
eat, but did not wish to hunt, so he called the bluejay "^ 

and said: 'Tell all the woods that to-morrow night Kalus- 
kap gives a new dance and teaches a new song,' and he 
told the hoot owl to do the same, so one kept it up all day — 
'Kaluskap teaches a new dance to-morrow night,' 
and the other kept it up all night: 'Kaluskap teaches a 
new song at next council.' 

"Thus it came about that all the woods and waters 
sent their folk to the dance. 

"Then Kaluskap took his song-drum and said: 'When 
I drum and sing you must dance in a circle the same way 
as the sun, close your eyes tightly, and each one shout his 
war whoop, as I cry "new songs"!' 

"So all began, with Kaluskap drumming in the middle, 
singing: 

" ' New songs from the south, brothers, 
Close your eyes tightly, brothers, 
Dance and learn a new song.' 

31S 




Rolf in the Woods 

"As they danced around, he picked out the fattest, 
and, reaching out one hand, seized them and twisted their 
necks, shouting out, 'More war-cries, more noise! that's 
it; now you are learning!' 

"At length Shingebis the diver began to have his doubts 
and he cautiously opened one eye, saw the trick, and 
shouted: 'Fly, brothers, fly! Kaluskap is killing us!' 

"Then all was confusion. Every one tried to escape, 
and Kaluskap, in revenge, tried to kill the Shingebis. 
But the diver ran for the water and, just as he reached 
the edge, Kaluskap gave him a kick behind that sent him 
half a mile, but it knocked off all his tail feathers and 
twisted his shape so that ever since his legs have stuck out 
where his tail was, and he cannot rise from the land or 
the ice. I know it is so, for my father, Cos Cob, told 
me it was true, and we ourselves have seen it. It is ever 
so. To go against Kaluskap brings much evil to brood 
over." 

A few nights later, as they sat by their fire in the 
cabin, a curious squeaking was heard behind the 
logs. They had often heard it before, but never so 
much as now. Skookum turned his head on one side, 
set his ears at forward cock. Presently, from a hole 
'twixt logs and chimney, there appeared a small, white- 
breasted mouse. 

Its nose and ears shivered a little; its black eyes 
danced in the firelight. It climbed up to a higher log, 
scratched its ribs, then rising on its hind legs, uttered 
one or two squeaks like those they had heard so often, 
but soon they became louder and continuous: 

316 i 



The Grebes and the Singing Mouse 

"Peo, peo, peo, peo, peo, peo, peo, peo, oo. 
Tree, tree, tree, tree, trrrrrrr, 
Turr, turr, turr, tur^ tur, 
Wee, wee, wee, we " — 

The little creature was sitting up high on its hind legs, 
its belly muscles were working, its mouth was gaping as it 
poured out its music. For fully half a minute this went 
on, when Skookum made a dash; but the mouse was 
quick and it flashed into the safety of its cranny. 

Rolf gazed at Quonab inquiringly. 

^'That is Mish-a-boh-quas, the singing mouse. He 
always comes to tell of war. In a little while there will 
be fighting." 



9<itcts of Ash TfeeS^ 




317 



LXVI 



A Lesson in Stalking 



^cout 




DID you ever see any fighting, Quonab?" 
''Ugh! In Revolution, scouted for General 
Gates.'' 

"Judging by the talk, we're liable to be called on before 
a A^ear. What will you do? " 

"Fight." 

"As soldier?" 

"No! scout." 

"They may not want us." 

"Always want scouts," replied the Indian. 

"It seems to me / ought to start training now." 

"You have been training." 

"How is that?" 

"A scout is everything that an army is, but it's all in 
one man. An' he don't have to keep step." 

"I see, I see," replied Rolf, and he realized that a scout 
is merely a trained hunter who is compelled by war to 
hunt his country's foes instead of the beasts of the woods. 

"See that?" said the Indian, and he pointed to a buck 
that was nosing for cranberries in the open expanse across 
the river where it left the lake. "Now, I show you 
scouting." He glanced at the smoke from the fire, found 

318 • , 



^\mn:fm 



A Lesson in Stalking 

it right for his plan, and said: ''See! I take my bow. 
No cover, yet I will come close and kill that deer." 

Then began a performance that was new to Rolf, and 
showed that the Indian had indeed reached the highest 
pitch of woodcraft. He took his bow and three good 
arrows, tied a band around his head, and into this stuck 
a lot of twigs and vines, so that his head looked like a 
tussock of herbage. Then he left the shanty door, and, 
concealed by the last bushes on the edge, he reached the 
open plain. Two hundred yards off was the buck, nosing 
among the herbage, and, from time to time, raising its 
superb head and columnar neck to look around. There 
was no cover but creeping herbage. Rolf suspected that 
the Indian would decoy the buck by some whistle or 
challenge, for the thickness of its neck showed the deer to 
be in fighting humour. 

Flat on his breast the Indian lay. His knees and 
elbow seemed to develop centipedic power; his head was 
a mere clump of growing stuff. He snaked his way quietly 
for twenty-five yards, then came to the open, sloping shore, 
with the river forty yards wide of level shining ice, all in 
plain view of the deer; how was this to be covered? 

There is a well-known peculiarity of the white tail that 
the Indian was counting on; when its head is down graz- 
ing, even though not hidden, the deer does not see distant 
objects ; before the head is raised, its tail is raised or shaken. 
Quonab knew that if he could keep the tail in view, he 
could avoid being viewed by the head. In a word, only 
an ill-timed movement or a whiff could betray him. 

The open ice was, of course, a hard test, and the hunter 

319 



Rolf in the Woods 

might have failed, but that his long form looked like one 
of the logs that were lying about half stranded or frozen 
in the stream. 

Watching ever the alert head and tail, he timed his 
approach, working hard and moving fast when the head 
was down; but when warned by a tail-jerk he turned to 
a log nor moved a muscle. Once the ice was crossed, 
the danger of being seen was less, but of being smelt was 
greater, for the deer was moving about, and Quonab 
watched the smoke from the cabin for knowledge of 
the wind. So he came within fifty yards, and the buck, 
still sniffing along and eagerly champing the few red 
cranberries it found above the frozen moss, was working 
toward a somewhat higher cover. The herbage was now 
fulty eighteen inches high, and Quonab moved a little 
faster. The buck found a large patch of berries under a 
tussock and dropped on its knees to pick them out, while 
Quonab saw the chance and gained ten yards before the 
tail gave warning. After so long a feeding-spell, the buck 
took an extra long lookout, and then walked toward the 
timber, whereby the Indian lost all he had gained. But 
the browser's eye was drawn by a shining bunch of red, 
then another; and now the buck swung until there was 
danger of betrayal by the wind; then down went its head 
and Quonab retreated ten yards to keep the windward. 
Once the buck raised its muzzle and sniffed with flaring nos- 
trils, as though its ancient friend had brought a warning. 
But soon he seemed reassured, for the landscape showed 
no foe, and nosed back and forth, while Quonab regained 
the yards he had lost. The buck worked now to the 

320 1 



■A 







•0 




■d 




Quonab glided swiftly forward 



A Lesson in Stalking 

taller cover, and again a tempting bunch of berries 
under a low, dense bush caused it to kneel for farther 
under-reaching. Quonab glided swiftly forward, reached 
the twenty-five-yard limit, rose to one knee, bent the 
stark cedar bow. Rolf saw the buck bound in air, then 
make for the wood with great, high leaps; the dash of 
disappointment was on him, but Quonab stood erect, 
with right hand raised, and shouted: 

^'Ho — ho." 

He knew that those bounds were unnecessarily high, 
and before the woods had swallowed up the buck, it fell 
— rose — and fell again, to rise not. The arrow had 
pierced its heart. 

Then Rolf rushed up with kindled eye and exultant 
pride to slap his friend on the back, and exclaim : 

* ' I never thought it possible ; the greatest feat in hunting 
I ever saw; you are a wonder!" 

To which the Indian softly replied, as he smiled: 

*'Ho! it was so I got eleven British sentries in the war. 
They gave me a medal with Washington's head." 

^'They did! how is it I never heard of it? Where is 
it?" 

The Indian's face darkened. "I threw it after the ship 
that stole my Gampwini." 



321 



LXVII 
Rolf Meets a Canuck 

THE winter might have been considered eventful, 
had not so many of the events been repetitions 
of former experience. But there were sever a 
that by their newness deserve a place on these pages, 
as they did in Rolf's memory. 

One of them happened soon after the first sharp frost. 
It had been an autumn of little rain, so that many ponds 
had dried up, with the result that hundreds of muskrats 
were forced out to seek more habitable quarters. The 
first time Rolf saw one of these stranded mariners on its 
overland journey, he gave heedless chase. At first it 
made awkward haste to escape; then a second muskrat 
was discovered just ahead, and a third. This added to 
Rolf's interest. In a few bounds he was among thern, 
but it was to get a surprise. Finding themselves over- 
taken, the muskrats turned in desperation and attacked 
the common enemy with courage and fury. Rolf leaped 
over the first, but the second sprang, caught him by the 
slack of the trouser leg, and hung on. The third flung itself 
on his foot and drove its sharp teeth through the moccasin. 
Quickly the first rallied and ^rang on his other leg 
with all the force of its puny paws, and powerful jaws, 

322 \ 






( 



Rolf Meets a Canuck 

Meanwhile Quonab was laughing aloud and holding 
back Skookum, who, breathing fire and slaughter, was mad 
to be in the fight. 

"Ho! a good fight! good musquas! Ho, Skookum, 
you must not always take care of him, or he will not 
learn to go alone. 

"Ugh, good!'' as the third muskrat gripped Rolf by 
the calf. 

There could be but one finish, and that not long delayed. 
A well-placed kick on one, the second swung by the tail, 
the third crushed under his heel, and the affair ended. 
Rolf had three muskrats and five cuts. Quonab had much 
joy and Skookum a sense of lost opportunity. 

"This we should paint on the wigwam," said Quonab. 
"Three great warriors attacked one Sagamore. They 
were very brave, but he was Nibowaka and very strong; 
he struck them down as the Thunderbird, Hurakan, 
strikes the dead pines the fire has left on the hilltop 
against the sky. Now shall you eat their hearts, for 
they were brave. My father told me a fighting 
muskrat' s heart is great medicine; for he seeks peace 
while it is possible, then he turns and fights without 
fear." 

A few days later they sighted a fox. In order to have 
a joke on Skookum, they put him on its track, and away 
he went, letting off his joy-whoops at every jump. The 
men sat down to wait, knowing full well that after an 
hour Skookum would come back with a long tongue and 
an air of depression. But they were favoured with an 
unexpected view of the chase. It showed a fox bounding 

323 



Rolf in the Woods 



I 



over the snow, and not twenty yards behind was thei 
energetic four-legged colleague. 

And, still more unexpected, the fox was overtaken in 
the next thicket, shaken to limpness, and dragged to be 
dropped at Quonab's feet. This glorious victory by 
Skookum was less surprising, when a closer examination 
showed that the fox had been in a bad way. Through 
some sad, sudden indiscretion, he had tackled a porcupine 
and paid the dire penalty. His mouth, jaws and face, 
neck and legs, were bristling with quills. He was sick and 
emaciated. He could not have lasted many days longer, 
and Skookum's summary lynching was a blessing in 
disguise. 

The trappers' usual routine was varied by a more 
important happening. One day of deep snow in January, 
when they were running the northern line on Racquet 
River, they camped for the night at their shelter cabin, 
and were somewhat surprised at dusk to hear a loud 
challenge from Skookum replied to by a human voice, 
and a short man with black whiskers appeared. He 
raised one hand in token of friendliness and was invited 
to come in. 

He was a French Canadian from La CoUe Mills. He 
had trapped here for some years. The almost certainty 
of war between Canada and the States had kept his usual 
companions away. So he had trapped alone, always a 
dangerous business, and had gathered a lot of good fur, 
but had fallen on the ice and hurt himself inwardly, so 
that he had no strength. He could tramp out on snow- 
shoes, but could not carry his pack of furs. He had long 

324 ' 



Rolf Meets a Canuck 

known that he had neighbours on the south; the camp fire 
smoke proved that, and he had come now to offer all his 
furs for sale. 

Quonab shook his head, but Rolf said, ^' We'll come over 
and see them." 

A two-hours' tramp in the morning brought them to 
the Frenchman's cabin. He opened out his furs; several 
otter, many sable, some lynx, over thirty beaver — the 
whole lot for two hundred dollars. At Lyons Falls they 
were worth double that. 

Rolf saw a chance for a bargain. He whispered, "We 
can double our money on it, Quonab. What do ye say? " 

The reply was simply, "Ugh! you are Nibowaka." 

"We'll take your offer, if we can fix it up about payment, 
for I have no money with me and barely two hundred 
dollars at the cabin." 

"You haff tabac and grosairs? " 

"Yes, plenty." 

l"You can go get 'em ? Si?" 

Rolf paused, looked down, then straight at the 
Frenchman. 

"Will you trust me to take half the fur now; when 
I come back with the pay I can get the rest." 

The Frenchman looked puzzled, then, "By Gar, you 
look de good look. I let um go. I tink you pretty good 
fellow, parbleuV 

So Rolf marched away with half the furs and four days 
later he was back and paid the pale-faced but happy 
Frenchman the one hundred and fifty dollars he had re- 
ceived from Van Cortlandt, with other bills making one 

325 



Rolf in the Woods 

hundred and ninety-five dollars and with groceries and 
tobacco enough to satisfy the trapper. The Frenchman 
proved a most amiable character. He and Rolf took to 
each other greatly, and when they shook hands at parting, 
it was in the hope of an early and happier meeting. 

Francois la Colle turned bravely for the ninety-mile 
tramp over the snow to his home, while Rolf went south 
with the furs that were to prove a most profitable invest- 
ment, shaping his life in several ways, and indirectly 
indeed of saving it on one occasion. 




326 



LXVIII 
War 

EIGHTEEN hundred and twelve had passed away. 
President Madison, driven by wrongs to his 
countrymen and indignities that no nation should 
meekly accept, had in the midsummer declared war" on 
Great Britain. Unfitted to cope with the situation and 
surrounded by unfit counsellors, his Httle army of heroic 
men led by unfit commanders had suffered one reverse 
after another. 

The loss of Fort Mackinaw, Chicago, Detroit, Browns- 
town, and the total destruction of the American army 
that attacked Queenstown were but poorly offset by the 
victory at Niagara and the successful defence of 
Ogdensburg. 

Rolf and Quonab had repaired to Albany as arranged, 
but they left it as United States scouts, not as guides to 
the four young sportsmen who wished to hark back to the 
primitive. 

Their first commission had been the bearing of despatches 
to Plattsburg. 

With a selected light canoe and a minimum of baggage 
they reached Ticonderoga in two days, and there renewed ^^ ^^.^j^j 

their acquaintance with General Hampton, who was 

327 




Rolf in the Woods 



fussing about, and digging useless entrenchments as though 
he expected a mighty siege. Rolf was called before him 
to receive other despatches for Colonel Pike at Plattsburg. 
He got the papers and learned their destination, then 
immediately made a sad mistake. ^^ Excuse me, sir," 
he began, ^'if I meet with " 

"Young man," said the general, severely, "I don't 
want any of your ^ifs' or 'buts'; your orders are ^go.' 
'How' and 'if are matters for you to find out; that's 
what you are paid for." 

Rolf bowed; his cheeks were tingling. He was very 
angry at what he thought a most uncalled for rebuke, 
but he got over it, and he never forgot the lesson. It 
was Si Sylvanne that put it into rememberable form. 

*'A fool horse kin follow a turnpike, but it takes a man 
with wits to climb, swim, boat, skate, run, hide, go it 
blind, pick a lock, take the long way, round, when it's 
the short way across, run away at the right time, or fight 
when it's wise — all in one afternoon." Rolf set out for 
the north carrying a bombastic (meant to be reassuring) 
message from Hampton that he would annihilate any 
enemy who dared to desecrate the waters of the lake. 

It was on this trip that Rolf learned from Quonab the 
details of the latter's visit to his people on the St. Regis. 
Apparently the joy of meeting a few of his own kin, with 
whom he could talk his own language, was offset by meet- 
ing with a large number of his ancient enemies the 
Mohawks. There had been much discussion of the possi- 
ble war between the British and the Yankees. The 
Mohawks announced their intention to fight for the British, 

328 ! 





^coot 



War 

which was a sufficient reason for Quonab as a Sinawa 
remaining with the Americans; and when he left the 
St. Regis reserve the Indian was without any desire to 
reenter it. 

At Plattsburg Rolf and Quonab met with another 
Albany acquaintance in General Wilkinson, and from him 
received despatches which they brought back to Albany, 
having covered the whole distance in eight days. 

When 1812 was gone Rolf had done little but carry 
despatches up and down Lake Champlain. Next season 
found the Americans still under command of Generals 
Wilkinson and Hampton, whose utter incompetence was 
becoming daily more evident. 

The year 18 13 saw Rolf, eighteen years old and six 
feet one in his socks, a trained scout and despatch bearer. 

By a flying trip on snowshoes in January he took let- *'" "*/ 
ters, from General Hampton at Ticonderoga to Sackett's 
Harbour and back in eight days, nearly three hundred miles. 
It made him famous as a runner, but the tidings that he 
brought were sad. Through him they learned in detail of 
the total defeat and capture of the American army at 
Frenchtown. After a brief rest he was sent across country 
on snowshoes to bear a reassuring message to Ogdensburg. 
The weather was much colder now, and the single blanket 
bed was dangerously slight; so *' Flying Kittering," as 
they named him, took a toboggan and secured Quonab 
as his running mate. Skookum was given into safe keep- 
ing. Blankets, pots, cups, food, guns, and despatches 
were strapped on the toboggan, and they sped away 
at dawn from Ticonderoga on the 18th of February 18 13, 

329 



Rolf in the Woods 

headed northwestward, guided by little but the compass. 
Thirty miles that day they made in spite of piercing 
blasts and driving snow. But with the night there began 
a terrible storm with winds of zero chill. The air was 
filled with stinging, cutting snow. When they rose at 
daylight they were nearly buried in drifts, although their 
camp was in a dense, sheltered thicket. Guided wholly 
by the compass they travelled again, but blinded by the 
whirling white they stumbled and blundered into endless 
difficulties and made but poor headway. After dragging 
the toboggan for three hours, taking turns at breaking 
the way, they were changing places when Rolf noticed a 
large gray patch on Quonab's cheek and nose. 

*'Quonab, your face is frozen," he said. 

*'So is yours," was the reply. 

Now they turned aside, followed a hollow until they 
reached a spruce grove, where they camped and took an 
observation, to learn that the compass and they held 
widely different views about the direction of travel. It 
was obviously useless to face the storm. They rubbed 
out their frozen features with dry snow and rested by the 
fire. 

No good scout seeks for hardship; he avoids the un- 
necessary trial of strength and saves himself for the 
unavoidable. With zero weather about them and twenty- 
four hours to wait in the storm, the scouts set about 
^ making themselves thoroughly comfortable. 

With their snowshoes they dug away the snow in a 
circle a dozen feet across, piling it up on the outside so 
as to make that as high as possible. When they were 

330 1 



Jtout 



War 

down to the ground, the wall of snow around them was 
five feet high. Now they went forth with the hatchets, 
cut many small spruces, and piled them against the living 
spruces about the camp till there was a dense mass of 
evergreen foliage ten feet high around them, open only 
at the top, where was a space five feet across. With 
abundance of dry spruce wood, a thick bed of balsam 
boughs, and plenty of blankets they were in what most 
woodmen consider comfort complete. 

They had nothing to do now but wait. Quonab sat 
placidly smoking, Rolf was sewing a rent in his coat, the 
storm hissed, and the wind-driven ice needles rattled 
through the trees to vary the crackle of the fire with a 
"siss" as they fell on the embers. The low monotony 
of sound was lulling in its evenness, when a faint crunch 
of a foot on the snow was heard. Rolf reached for his gun, 
the fir tree screen was shaken a little, and a minute later 
there bounded in upon them the snow covered form of 
little dog Skookum, expressing his good-will by excessive 
sign talk in which every limb and member had a part. 
They had left him behind, indeed, but not with his con- 
sent, so the bargain was incomplete. 

There was no need to ask now. What shall we do with 
him? Skookum had settled that, and why or how he 
never attempted to explain. 

He was wise who made it law that "as was his share 
who went forth to battle, so shall his be that abode 
with the stuff," for the hardest of all is the waiting. 
In the morning there was less doing in the ele- 
mental strife. There were even occasional periods of 

331 



Rolf in the Woods 

calm ana at length it grew so light that surely the veil 
was breaking. 

Quonab returned from a brief reconnoitre to say, "Ugh! 
— good going." ^^ 

The clouds were broken and flying, the sun came out 
at times, but the wind was high, the cold intense, and 
the snow still drifting. Poor Skookum had it harder than 
the men, for they wore snowshoes; but he kept his troubles 
to himself and bravely trudged along behind. Had he 
been capable of such reflection he might have said, *^ What 
delightful weather, it keeps the fleas so quiet." 

That day there was little to note but the intense cold, 
and again both men had their cheeks frost-bitten on the 
north side. A nook under an overhanging rock gave a 
good camp that night. Next day the bad weather re- 
sumed, but, anxious to push on they faced it, guided 
chiefly by the wind. It was northwest, and as long as 
they felt this fierce, burning cold mercilessly gnawing on 
their hapless tender right cheek bones, they knew they 
were keeping their proper main course. 

They were glad indeed to rest at dusk and thaw their 
frozen faces. Next day at dawn they were oS; at first 
it was calm, but the surging of the snow waves soon began 
again, and the air was filled with the spray of their lashing 
till it was hard to see fifty yards in any direction. They 
were making very bad time. The fourth day should have 
brought them to Ogdensburg, but they were still far off; 
how far they could only guess, for they had not come across 
a house or a settler. 



332 



LXIX 
Ogdensburg 

THE same blizzard was raging on the next day 
when Skookum gave unequivocal sign talk that 
he smelted something. 

It is always well to find out what stirs your dog. Quonab 
looked hard at Skookum. That sagacious mongrel was 
sniffing vigorously, up in the air, not on the ground; his 
mane was not bristling, and the patch of dark hair that 
every gray or yellow dog has at the base of his tail, was 
not lifted. 

^'He smells smoke," was the Indian's quick diagnosis. 
Rolf pointed up the wind and made the sign-talk query. 
Quonab nodded. 

It was their obvious duty to find out who was their 
smoky neighbour. They were now not so far from the 
St. Lawrence; there was a small chance of the smoke 
being from a party of the enemy; there was a large chance 
of it being from friends; and the largest chance was that 
it came from some settler's cabin where they could get 
necessary guidance. 

They turned aside. The wind now, instead of on 
the right cheek, was square in their faces. Rolf went 
forward increasing his pace till he was as far ahead as 

333 






^y^ ^ 



Rolf in the Woods 

was possible without being out of sight. After a mile 
their way led downward, the timber was thicker, the wind 
less, and the air no more befogged with flying snow. 
Rolf came to a long, deep trench that wound among the 
trees; the snow at the bottom of it was very hard. This 
was what he expected; the trail mufHed under new, 
soft snow, but still a fresh trail and leading to the camp 
that Skookum had winded. 

He turned and made the sign for them to halt and 
wait. Then strode cautioiisly along the winding guide 
line. 

In twenty minutes the indications of a settlement 
increased, and the scout at length was peering from the 
woods across the open down to a broad stream on whose 
bank was a saw mill, with the usual wilderness of ram- 
shackle shanties, sheds, and lumber piles about. 

There was no work going on, which was a puzzle till 
Rolf remembered it was Sunday. He went boldly up 
and asked for the boss. His whole appearance was that 
of a hunter and as such the boss received him. 

He was coming through from the other side and had 
missed his way in the storm, he explained. 

*'What are ye by trade?" 

"A trapper." 

** Where are ye bound now?" 

** Well, I'll head for the nearest big settlement, whatever 
that is." 

**It's just above an even thing between Alexandria 
Bay and Ogdensburg." 

So Rolf inquired fully about the trail to Alexandria 

334 I 



Ogdensburg 

Bay that he did not want to go to. Why should he be 
so careful? The mill owner was clearly a good American, 
but the scout had no right to let any outsider know his 
business. This mill owner might be safe, but he might 
be unwise and blab to some one who was not all right. 

Then in a casual way he learned that this was the 
Oswegatchie River and thirty miles down he would find 
the town of Ogdensburg. 

No great recent events did he hear of, but evidently 
the British troops across the river were only awaiting 
the springtime before taking offensive measures. 

For the looks of it, Rolf bought some tea and pork, but 
the hospitable mill man refused to take payment and, ^[ 
leaving in the direction of Alexandria Bay, Rolf presently 
circled back and rejoined his friends in the woods. 

A long detour took them past the mill. It was too cold 
for outdoor idling. Every window was curtained with 
frost, and not a soul saw them as they tramped along past 
the place and down to continue on the ice of the 
Oswegatchie. 

Pounded by the ceaseless wind, the snow on the ice 
was harder, travel was easier, and the same tireless blizzard 
wiped out the trail as soon as it was behind them. 

Crooked is the river trail, but good the footing, and good 
time was made. When there was a north reach, the 
snow was extra hard or the ice clear and the scouts sUpped 
off their snow shoes, and trotted at a good six-mile gait. 
Three times they halted for tea and rest, but the fact that 
they were the bearers of precious despatches, the bringers 
of inspiring good news, and their goal ever nearer, spurred 

335 




Rolf in the Woods 



them on and on. It was ten o'clock that morning when] 
they left the mill, some thirty miles from Ogdensburg. 
It was now near sundown, but still they figured that by 
an effort they could reach the goal that night. It was 
their best day's travel, but they were nerved to it by the 
sense of triumph as they trotted; and the prospective 
joy of marching up to the commandant and handing over 
the eagerly looked for, reassuring documents, gave them 
new strength and ambition. Yes! they must push on at 
any price that night. Day was over now; Rolf was leading 
at a steady trot. In his hand he held the long trace of his 
toboggan, ten feet behind was Quonab with the short 
trace, while Skookum trotted before, beside, or behind, 
as was dictated by his general sense of responsibility. 

It was quite dark now. There was no moon, the 
wooded shore was black. Their only guide was the broad, 
wide reach of the river, sometimes swept bare of snow by 
the wind, but good travelling at all times. They were 
trotting and walking in spells, going five miles an [hour; 
Quonab was suffering, but Rolf was young and eager to 
finish. They rounded another reach, they were now on the 
last big bend, they were reeling off the miles; only ten 
more, and Rolf was so stirred that, instead of dropping 
to the usual walk on signal at the next one hundred yards 
spell, he added to his trot. Quonab, taken unawares, 
slipped and lost his hold of the trace. Rolf shot ahead 
and a moment later there was the crash of a breaking 
air-hole, and Rolf went through the ice, clutched at the 
broken edge, and disappeared, while the toboggan was 
dragged to the hole. 

336 




Ogdensburg 

Quonab sprung to his feet, and then to the lower side 
of the hole. The toboggan had swung to the same place 
and the long trace was tight; without a moment's delay 
the Indian hauled at it steadily, heavily, and in a few 
seconds the head of his companion reappeared; still 
clutching that long trace he was safely dragged from the 
ice-cold flood, blowing and gasping, shivering and sopping, 
but otherwise unhurt. 

Now here a new danger presented itself. The zero 
wind would soon turn his clothes to boards. They stiffened 
in a few minutes, and the Indian knew that frozen hands 
and feet were all too easy in frozen clothes. 

He made at once for the shore, and, seeking the heart 
of a spruce thicket, lost no time in building two roaring 
fires between which Rolf stood while the Indian made the 
bed, in which, as soon as he could be stripped, the lad 
was glad to hide. Warm tea and warm blankets made him 
warm, but it would take an hour or two to dry his clothes . 
There is nothing more damaging than drying them too 
quickly. Quonab made racks of poles and spent the next 
two hours in regulating the fire, watching the clothes, 
and working the moccasins. 

It was midnight when they were ready and any question 
of going on at once was settled by Quonab. ^'Ogdensburg 
is under arms," he said. "It is not wise to approach by 
night." 

At six in the morning they were once more going, 
stiff with travel, sore-footed, face-frozen, and chafed by 
delay; but, swift and keen, trotting and walking, they 
went. They passed several settlements, but avoided 

337 



Rolf in the Woods 

them. At seven-thirty they had a distant glimpse of 
Ogdensburg and heard the inspiring roll of drums, and a 
few minutes later from the top of a hill they had a complete 
view of the heroic little town to see — yes ! plainly enough 
— that the British flag was flying from the flag pole. 




338 



LXX 

Saving the Despatches 

OH, THE sickening shock of it! Rolf did not know 
till now how tired he was, how eager to deliver 
the heartening message, and to relax a little from 
the strain. He felt weak through and through. There 
could be no doubt that a disaster had befallen his country's 
arms. 

His first care was to get out of sight with his sled and 
those precious despatches. 

Now what should he do? Nothing till he had fuller 
information. He sent Quonab back with the sled, in- 
structing him to go to a certain place two miles off, there 
camp out of sight and wait. 

Then he went in alone. Again and again he was stung 
by the thought, ''If I had come sooner they might have 
held out." 

A number of teams gathered at the largest of a group 
of houses on the bank suggested a tavern. He went in 
and found many men sitting down to breakfast. He had 
no need to ask questions. It was the talk of the table. 
Ogdensburg had been captured the day before. The story 
is well known. Colonel MacDonnell with his Glengarry 
Highlanders at Prescott went to drill daily on the ice of the 

339 



Rolf in the Woods 






St. Lawrence opposite Ogdensburg. Sometimes the 
marched past just out of range, sometimes they charged 
and wheeled before coming too near. The few Americans 
that held the place watched these harmless exercises and 
often cheered some clever mancjeuvre. They felt quite 
safe behind their fortification. By an unwritten agree- 
ment both parties refrained from firing random shots at 
each other. There was little to suggest enemies en- 
trenched; indeed, many men in each party had friends 
in the other, and the British had several times trotted 
past within easy range, without provoking a shot. 

On February 2 2d, the day when Rolf and Quonab 
struck the Oswegatchie, the British colonel directed his 
men as usual, swinging them ever nearer the American 
fort, and then, at the nearest point, executed a very pretty 
charge. The Americans watched it as it neared, but 
instead of wheeling at the brink the little army scrambled 
up with merry shouts, and before the garrison could 
realize that this was war, they were overpowered and 
Ogdensburg was taken. 

The American commander was captured. Captain 
Forsyth, the second in command, had been off on a snow- 
shoe trip, so had escaped. All the rest were prisoners, 
and what to do with the despatches or how to get official 
instructions was now a deep problem. ''When you don't 
know a thing to do, don't do a thing," was one of Si Syl- 
vanne's axioms; also, ''In case of doubt lay low and say 
nothing." Rolf hung around the town all day waiting 
for light. About noon a tall, straight, alert man in a 
buffalo coat drove up with a cutter. He had a hasty meal 

340 



Saving the Despatches 

in an inside room. Rolf sized him up for an American 
officer, but there was a possibility of his being a Canadian. 
Rolf tried in vain to get light on him but the inner door 
was kept closed; the landlord was evidently in the secret. 
When he came out he was again swaddled in the buffalo 
coat. Rolf brushed past him — there was something 
hard and long in the right pocket of the big coat. 

The landlord, the guest, and the driver had a whispered 
conference. Rolf went as near as he dared, but got only 
a searching look. The driver spoke to another driver and 
Rolf heard the words ^' Black Lake." Yes, that was what 
he suspected. Black Lake was on the inland sleigh route 
to Alexandria Bay and Sackett's Harbour. 

The driver, a fresh young fellow, was evidently in- 
terested in the landlord's daughter; the stranger was 
talking with the landlord. As soon as they had parted, 
Rolf went to the latter and remarked quietly: "The 
captain is in a hurry." The only reply was a cold look 
and: "Guess that's his business." So it was the captain. 
The driver's mitts were on the line back of the stove. 
Rolf shook them so that they fell in a dark corner. The 
driver missed his mitts, and glad of a chance went back in, 
leaving the officer alone. "Captain Forsyth," whispered 
Rolf, "don't go till I have talked with you. I'll meet 
you a mile down the road." 

"Who are you and what do you want?" was the curt 
and hostile reply, evidently admitting the identification 
correct however. 

Rolf opened his coat and showed his scout badge. 

"Why not talk now if you have any news — come in- 

341 




f 



Rolf in the Woods 

side." So the two went to the inner room. "Who is 
this?" asked Rolf cautiously as the landlord came in. 

"He's all right. This is Titus Flack, the landlord." 

"How am I to know that?" 

"Haven't you heard him called by name all day?" sai 
the captain. 

Flack smiled, went out and returned with his license 
to sell liquor, and his commission as a magistrate of New 
York State. The latter bore his own signature. He 
took a pen and reproduced it. Now the captain threw 
back his overcoat and stood in the full uniform of an army 
officer. He opened his satchel and took out a paper, but 
Rolf caught sight of another packet addressed to General 
Hampton. The small one was merely a map. "I think 
that packet in there is meant for me," remarked Rolf. 

"We haven't seen your credentials yet," said the officer. 
"I have them two miles back there," and Rolf pointed 
to the woods. 

"Let's go," said the captain and they arose. Kittering 
had a way of inspiring confidence, but in the short, silent 
ride of two miles the captain began to have his doubts. 
The scout badge might have been stolen; Canadians 
often pass for Americans, etc. At length they stopped the 
sleigh, and Rolf led into the woods. Before a hundred 
yards the officer said, " Stop," and Rolf stopped to find 
a pistol pointed at his head. "Now, young fellow, you've 
played it pretty slick, and I don't know yet what to make 
of it. But I know this; at the very first sign of treachery 
I'll blow your brains out anyway." 

342 i 



Saving the Despatches 

It gave Rolf a jolt. This was the first time he had looked 
dowli a pistol barrel levelled at him. He used to think a 
pistol a little thing, an inch through and a foot long, but 
he found now it seemed as big as a flour barrel and long 
enough to reach eternity. He changed colour but quickly 
recovered, smiled, and said: *' Don't worry; in five 
minutes you will know it's all right.'' 

Very soon a sharp bark was heard in challenge, and the 
two stepped into camp to meet Quonab and little dog 
Skookum. 

"Doesn't look much like a trap," thought the captain 
after he had cast his eyes about and made sure that no 
other person was in the camp; then aloud, *^Now what 
have you to show me?" 

"Excuse me, captain, but how am I to know you are 
Captain Forsyth? It is possible for a couple of spies to 
give all the proof you two gave me." 

The captain opened his bag and showed first his instruc- 
tions given before he left Ogdensburg four days ago; he 
bared his arm and showed a tattooed U. S. A., a relic of 
Academy days, then his linen marked J. F., and a signet 
ring with similar initials, and last the great packet of papers 
addressed to General Hampton. Then he said: "When 
you hand over your despatches to me I will give mine to 
you and we shall have good guarantee each of the other." 

Rolf rose, produced his bundle of papers, and exchanged 
them for those held by Forsyth; each felt that the other 
was safe. They soon grew friendly, and Rolf heard of 
some stirring doings on the lake and preparations for a 
great campaign in the spring. 

343 



Rolf in the Woods 

After half an hour the tall, handsome captain left them 
and strode away, a picture of manly vigour. Three hours 
later they were preparing their evening meal when Skookum 
gave notice of a stranger approaching. This was time of 
war; Rolf held his rifle ready, and a moment later in burst 
the young man who had been Captain Forsyth's driver. 

His face was white; blood dripped from his left arm, 
and in his other hand was the despatch bag. He glanced 
keenly at Rolf. "Are you General Hampton's scout?" 
Rolf nodded and showed the badge on his breast. "Cap- 

atain Forsyth sent this back," he gasped. "His last 
words were, ' Burn the despatches rather than let the British 
•^^*Jf^ get them.' They got him — a foraging party — there 
Scout. n^ ^^^ ^ gpy a^^ ^i^Q hotel. I got away, but my tracks are 
easy to follow unless it drifts. Don't wait." 

Poor boy, his arm was broken, but he carried out the 
dead ofhcer's command, then left them to seek for relief 
in the settlement. 

Night was near, but Rolf broke camp at once and started 
eastward with the double packet. He did not know it 
then, but learned afterward that these despatches made 
clear the weakness of Oswego, Rochester, and Sackett's 
Harbour, their urgent need of help, and gave the whole 
plan for an American counter attack on Montreal. But 
he knew they were valuable, and they must at once be 
taken to General Hampton. 

It was rough, hard going in the thick woods and swamps 
away from the river, for he did not dare take the ice route 
now, but they pushed on for three hours, then, in the 
gloom, made a miserable camp in a cedar swamp. 

344 



Saving the Despatches 

At dawn they were off again. To their disgust the 
weather now was dead calm; there was no drift to hide 
their tracks; the trail was as plain as a highway wherever 
they went. They came to a beaten road, followed that 
for half a mile, then struck off on the true line. But they 
had no idea that they were followed until, after an hour 
of travel, the sun came up and on a far distant slope, 
full two miles away, they saw a thin black line of many 
spots, at least a dozen British soldiers in pursuit. 

The enemy was on snowshoes, and without baggage 
evidently, for they travelled fast. Rolf and Quonab 
burdened with the sled were making a losing race. But 
they pushed on as fast as possible — toiling and sweating 
at that precious load. Rolf was pondering whether the 
time had not yet come to stop and burn the packet, when, 
glancing back from a high ridge that gave an outlook, he 
glimpsed a row of heads that dropped behind some rocks 
half a mile away, and a scheme came into his mind. He 
marched boldly across the twenty feet opening that was 
in the enemy's view, dropped behind the spruce thickets, 
called Quonab to follow, ran around the thicket, and again 
crossed the open view. So he and Quonab continued for 
five minutes, as fast as they could go, knowing perfectly 
well that they were watched. Round and round that 
bush they went, sometimes close together, carrying the 
guns, sometimes dragging the sled, sometimes with blankets 
on their shoulders, sometimes with a short bag or even a large 
cake of snow on their backs. They did everything they 
could to vary the scene, and before five minutes the British 
officer in charge had counted fifty-six armed Americans 

345 



Rolf in the Woods 

marching in single file up the bank with ample stores, 
accompanied by ^ve yellow dogs. Had Skookum been 
allowed to carry out his ideas, there would have been fifty 1| 
or sixty yellow dogs, so thoroughly did he enter into the ■ 
spirit of the game. 

The track gave no hint of such a troop, but of course 
not, how could it? since the toboggan left all smooth 
after they had passed, or maybe this was a reinforce- 
ment arriving. What could he do with his ten men 
against fifty of the enemy? He thanked his stars 
that he had so cleverly evaded the trap, and with- 
out further attempt to gauge the enemy's strength, he 
turned and made all possible haste back to the shelter of 
Ogdensburg. 



^^^p-'^s^>l^,:r ,yr-^^S^>-^NV ^^ym^r 







346 



LXXI 
Sackett^s Harbour 

IT WAS hours before Rolf was sure that he had stopped 
the pursuit, and the thing that finally set his mind at 
rest was the rising wind that soon was a raging and 
drifting snow storm. "Oh, blessed storm!" he said in 
his heart, as he marked all trail disappear within a few 
seconds of its being made. And he thought: "How I 
cursed the wind that held me back — really from being 
made prisoner. How vexed I was at that ducking in the 
river, that really saved my despatches from the enemy. 
How thankful I am now for the storm that a little while 
back seemed so bitterly cruel." 

That forenoon they struck the big bend of the river and 
now did not hesitate to use the easy travel on the ice as 
far as Rensselaer Falls, where, having got their bearings 
from a settler, they struck across the country through the 
storm, and at night were encamped some forty miles from 
Ogdensburg. 

Marvellously few signs of game had they seen in this 
hard trip; everything that could hide away was avoiding 
the weather. But in a cedar bottom land near Cranberry 
Lake they found a ^^yard" that seemed to be the winter 
home of hundreds of deer. It extended two or three miles 

347 



Rolf , in the Woods 




3^x £ic(er 




one way and a half a mile the other; 'in spite of the deep 
snow this was nearly all in beaten paths. The scouts saw 
at least fifty deer in going through, so, of course, had no 
difl&culty in selecting a young buck for table use. 

The going from there on was of little interest. It was 
the same old daily battle with the frost, but less rigorous 
than before, for now the cold winds were behind, and on 
the 27 th of February, nine days after leaving, they trotted 
into Ticonderoga and reported at the commandant's 
headquarters. 

The general was still digging entrenchments and threat- 
ening to annihilate all Canada. But the contents of the 
despatches gave him new topics for thought and speech. 
The part he must play in the proposed descent on Montreal 
was flattering, but it made the Ticonderoga entrench- 
ments ridiculous. 

For three days Rolf was kept cutting wood, then he 
went with despatches to Albany. 

Many minor labours, from hog-killing to stable-cleaning 
and trenching, varied the month of March. Then came 
the uncertain time of April when it was neither canoeing 
nor snow-shoeing and all communication from the north 
was cut off. 

But May, great, glorious May came on, with its inspir- 
ing airs and livening influence. Canoes were afloat, the 
woods were brown beneath and gold above. 

Rolf felt like a young stag in his strength. He was 
spoiling for a run and volunteered eagerly to carry des- 
patches to Sackett's Harbour. He would go alone, for 
now one blanket was sufficient bed, and a coi;ple of pounds 

348 



Mdi/ile 



Sacfcett^s Harbour 



of dry meat was enough food for each day. A small 
hatchet would be useful, but his rifle seemed too heavy 
to carry; as he halted in doubt, a junior officer offered 
him a pistol instead, and he gladly stuck it in his belt. 

Taller than ever, considerably over six feet now, some- 
what lanky, but supple of joint and square of shoulder, 
he strode with the easy stride of a strong traveller. His 
colour was up, his blue-gray eyes ablaze as he took the 
long trail in a crow line across country for Sackett's Har- 
bour. The sentry saluted, and the officer of the day, 
struck by his figure and his glowing face as much as by the 
nature of his errand, stopped to shake hands and say, 
^'Well, good luck, Kittering, and may you bring us better 
news than the last two times." 

Rolf knew how to travel now; he began softly. At 
a long, easy stride he went for half an hour, then at a swing- 
ing trot for a mile or two. Five miles an hour he could 
make, but there was one great obstacle to speed at this 
season — every stream was at flood, all were difficult to 
cross. The brooks he could wade or sometimes could fell 
a tree across them, but the rivers were too wide to bridge, 
too cold and dangerous to swim. In nearly every case he 
had to make a raft. A good scout takes no chances. A 
slight raft means a risky passage; a good one, a safe crossing 
but loss of time in preparations. Fifteen good rafts did 
Rolf make in that cross-country journey of three days: 
dry spruce logs he found each time and bound them to- 
gether with leather-wood and withes of willow. It 
meant a delay of at least an hour each time; that is five 
hours each day. But the time was wisely spent. The 

349 




Rolf in the Woods 

days were lengthening; he could travel much at dusk. 
Soon he was among settlements. Rumours he got at aj 
settler's cabin of Sir George Prevost's attack on Sackett's 
Harbour and the gallant repulse and at morning of the 
fourth day he came on the hill above Sackett's Harbour 
— the same hill where he had stood three months before. 
It was with something like a clutching of his breath that 
he gazed; his past experiences suggested dreadful thoughts 
but no — thank God, "Old Glory'' floated from the pole. 
He identified himself to the sentinels and the guard, 
entered the fort at a trot, and reported at headquarters. 

There was joy on every side. At last the tide had 
turned. Commodore Chauncey, after sweeping Lake 
Ontario, had made a sudden descent on York (Toronto 
now) the capital of Upper Canada, had seized and de- 
stroyed it. Sir George Prevost, taking advantage of Chaun- 
cey's being away, had attacked Sackett's Harbour, but, 
in spite of the absence of the fleet, the resistance had been 
so vigorous that in a few days the siege was abandoned. 

There were shot holes in walls and roofs, there were a 
few wounded in the hospital, the green embankments 
were torn, and the flag-pole splintered; but the enemy was 
gone, the starry flag was floating on the wind, and the 
sturdy little garrison filled with a spirit that grows only in 
heroes fighting for their homes. 

How joyfully different from Ogdensburg, 




3SO 



LXXII 
Scouting Across Country 

THAT very night, Rolf turned again with the latest 
news and the commandant's reports. 
He was learning the country well now, and, 
with the wonderful place-memory of a woodman, he was 
able to follow his exact back trail. It might not have been 
the best way, but it gave him this advantage — in nearly 
every case he was able to use again the raft he had 
made in coming, and thereby saved many hours of pre- 
cious time. 

On the way out he had seen a good many deer and 
one bear, and had heard the howling of wolves every night; 
but always at a distance. On the second night, in the 
very heart of the wilderness, the wolves were noisy and 
seemed very near. Rolf was camping in the darkness. 
He made a small fire with such stuff as he could find by 
groping, then, when the fire blazed, he discovered by its 
light a dead spruce some twenty yards away. Taking his 
hatchet he went toward this, and, as he did so, a wolf 
rose up, with its forefeet on a log, only five yards beyond 
the tree and gazed curiously at him. Others were heard 
calling; presently this wolf raised its muzzle and uttered a 
long, smooth howl. 

351" 



Rolf in the Woods 

Rolf had left his pistol back at the fire; he dared not] 
throw his hatchet, as that would have left him unarmed.! 
He stooped, picked up a stick, and threw that; the woll 
ducked so that it passed over, then, stepping back from the 
log, stood gazing without obvious fear or menace.} 
The others were howling; Rolf felt afraid. He backed' 
cautiously to the fire, got his pistol and came again to the 
place, but nothing more did he see of the wolf, though he 
heard them all night and kept up two great fires for a 
protection. 

In the morning he started as usual, and before half 
an hour he was aware of a wolf, and later of two, trotting 
along his trail, a few hundred yards behind. They did 
not try to overtake him; indeed, when he stopped, they did 
the same; and when he trotted, they, true to their dog-like 
nature, ran more rapidly in pursuit. How Rolf did wish 
for his long rifle; but they gave no opportunity for a shot 
with the pistol. They acted, indeed, as though they knew 
their safe distance and the exact range of the junior gun. 
The scout made a trap for them by stealing back after 
he had crossed a ridge, and hiding near his own trail. 
But the wind conveyed a warning, and the wolves merely 
sat down and waited till he came out and went on. All day 
long these two strange ban dogs followed him and gave no 
sign of hunger or malice; then, after he crossed a river, at 
three in the afternoon, he saw no more of them. Years 
after, when Rolf knew them better, he believed they fol- 
lowed him out of mild curiosity, or possibly in the hope 
that he would kill a deer in which they might share. 
And when they left him, it was because they were near the 

352 




The others were howling; Rolf felt afraid 



Scouting Across Country 



edge of their own home region; they had seen him off their 
hunting grounds. 

That night he camped sixty miles from Ticonderoga, 
but he was resolved to cover the distance in one day. 
Had he not promised to be back in a week? The older 
hands had shaken their heads incredulously, and he, in 
the pride of his legs, was determined to be as good as his 
promise. He scarcely dared sleep lest he should over- 
sleep. At ten he lay down. At eleven the moon was 
due to rise; as soon as that was three hours high there would 
be light enough, and he proposed to go on. At least half 
a dozen times he woke with a start, fearing he had over- 
slept, but reassured by a glance at the low-hung moon, 
he had slumbered again. 

At last the moon was four hours high, and the woods were 
plain in the soft light. A horned owl "hoo-hoo-ed, " and 
a far-off wolf uttered a drawn-out, soft, melancholy cry, as 
Rolf finished his dried meat, tightened his belt, and set 
out on a long, hard run that, in the days of Greece, would 
have furnished the theme of many a noble epic poem. 

No need to consult his compass. The blazing lamp of 
the dark sky was his guide, straight east his course, varied 
a little by hills and lakes, but nearly the crow-flight line. 
At first his pace was a steady, swinging stride; then after 
a mile he came to an open lake shore down which he went 
at a six-mile trot; and then an alder thicket through which 
his progress was very slow; but that soon passed, and for 
half a mile he splashed through swamps with water a foot 
deep : nor was he surprised at length to see it open into a 
little lake with a dozen beaver huts in view. ^^ Splash 

353 




Rolf in the Woods 

plong" their builders went at his approach, but he made 
for the hillside; the woods were open, the moonlight 
brilliant now, and here he trotted at full swing as long as 
the way was level or down, but always walked on the up- 
hill. A sudden noise ahead was followed by a tremendous 
crashing and crackling of the brush. For a moment it 
continued, and what it meant, Rolf never knew or guessed. 

^'Trot, trot," he went, reeling off six miles in the open, 
two or perhaps three in the thickets, but on and on, ever 
eastward. Hill after hill, swamp after swamp, he crossed, 
lake after lake he skirted round, and, when he reached 
some little stream, he sought a log bridge or prodded with 
a pole till he found a ford and crossed, then ran a mile or 
two to make up loss of time. 

Tramp, tramp, tramp, and his steady breath and his 
steady heart kept unremitting rhythm. 




^m 






354 



LXXIII 
Rolf Makes a Record 

TWELVE miles were gone when the foreglow — the 
first cold dawn-light — showed, and shining across 
his path ahead was a mighty rolling stream. 
Guided by the now familiar form of Goodenow Peak he 
made for this, the Hudson's lordly flood. There was his 
raft securely held, with paddle and pole near by, and he 
pushed off with all the force of his young vigour. Jumping 
and careening with the stream in its freshet flood, the raft 
and its hardy pilot were served with many a whirl and some 
round spins, but the long pole found bottom nearly every- 
where, and not ten minutes passed before the traveller 
sprang ashore, tied up his craft, then swung and tramped 
and swung. 

Over the hills of Vanderwhacker, under the woods of 
Boreas. Tramp, tramp, splash, tramp, wringing and 
sopping, but strong and hot, tramp, tramp, tramp, 
tramp. The partridge whirred from his path, the gray 
deer snorted, and the panther sneaked aside. Tramp, 
tramp, trot, trot, and the Washburn Ridge was blue against 
the sunrise. Trot, trot, over the low, level, mile-long 
slope he went, and when the Day-god burnt the upper 

355 



Rolf in the Woods 





hill-rim he was by brown Tahawus flood and had covered 
eighteen miles. 

By the stream he stopped to drink. A partridge cock, 
in the pride of spring, strutted arrogantly on a log. 
Rolf drew his pistol, fired, then hung the headless body 
while he made a camper's blaze: an oatcake, the partridge, 
and river water were his meal. His impulse was to go on 
at once. His reason, said "go slow.'' So he waited for 
fifteen minutes. Then again, beginning with a slow walk, 
he ere long added to his pace. In half an hour he was 
striding and in an hour the steady "trot, trot," that 
slackened only for the hills or swamps. In an hour more 
he was on the Washburn Ridge, and far away in the east 
saw Schroon Lake that empties in the river Schroon; 
and as he strode along, exulting in his strength, he sang in 
his heart for joy. Again a gray wolf cantered on his trail, 
and the runner laughed, without a thought of fear. He 
seemed to know the creature better now; knew it as a 
brother, for it gave no hostile sound, but only seemed to 
trot, trot, for the small joy of running with a runner, as a 
swallow or an antelope will skim along by a speeding train. 
For an hour or more it matched his pace, then left as 
though its pleasant stroll was done, and Rolf kept on and 
on and on. 

The spring sun soared on high, the day grew warm at 
noon. Schroon River just above the lake was in his path, 
and here he stopped to rest. Here, with the last of his 
oatcake and a little tea, he made his final meal; thirty- 
eight miles had he covered since he rose; his clothes were 
torn, his moccasins worn, but his legs wep strong, his 

356 



/Rolf Makes a Record 



purpose sure; only twenty- two miles now, and his duty 
would be done; his honours won. What should he do, 
push on at once? No, he meant to rest an hour. He 
made a good fire by a little pool, and using a great mass of 
caribou moss as a sponge, he had a thorough rub-down. 
He got out his ever-ready needle and put his moccasins 
in good shape; he dried his clothes and lay on his back till 
the hour was nearly gone. Then he girded himself for 
this the final run. He was weary, indeed, but he was far 
from spent, and the iron will that had yearly grown in 
force was there with its unconquerable support. 

Slowly at start, soon striding, and at last in the famous 
jog trot of the scout he went. The sky was blackened with 
clouds at length, and the jealous, howling east wind rolled 
up in rain; the spindrift blurred the way; the heavy showers 
of spring came down and drenched him; but his pack was 
safe and he trotted on and on. Then long, deep swamps 
of alder barred his path, and, guided only by the compass, 
Rolf pushed in and through and ever east. Barely a 
mile an hour in the thickest part he made, but lagged not; 
drenched and footsore, warm and torn, but doggedly, 
steadily on. At three he had made a scant seven miles; 
then the level, open wood of Thunderbolt was reached and 
his stride became a run; trot, trot, trot, at six-mile gait, for 
but fifteen miles remained. Sustained, inspired, the bringer 
of good news, he halted not and faltered not, but on and on. 

Tramp tramp, tramp tramp — endless, tireless, hour 
by hour. At fLve he was on Thunder Creek, scarce eight 
miles more to the goal; his limbs were sore, his feet were 
sore; bone tired was he, but his heart was filled with joy. 

357 




Rolf in the Woods 



"News of battle, news of victory" he was bringing, and 
the thought lent strength; the five miles passed, the way was 
plain with good roads now, but the runner was so weary. 
He was striding, his running was done, the sun was low 
in the west, his feet were bleeding, the courier was brain 
worn and leg worn, but he strode and strode. He passed 
by homes but heeded them not. 

'Xome in and rest,'' called one who saw nothing but 
a weary traveller. Rolf shook his head, but gave no word 
and strode along. A mile ■ — a short mile now; he must 
hold out; if he sat down he feared he could not rise. He 
came at last in sight of the fort; then, gathering all his 
force, he broke into a trot, weak, so weak that had he 
fallen, he could scarcely have got up, and slow, but faster 
than a walk: and so, as the red sun sank, he passed the gate. 
He had no right to give tidings to any but the general, 
yet they read it in his eyes. The guard broke into a cheer, 
and trotting still, though reeling, Rolf had kept his word, 
had made his run, had brought the news, and had safely 
reached his goal. 



/v/v\; 







LXXIV 

Van Trumper^s Again 

WHY should the scout bringing good news be dif- 
ferently received from the one that brings the ill? 
He did not make the news, he simply did his duty ; 
the same in both cases. He is merely the telegraph instru- 
ment. Yet it is so ever. King Pharaoh slew the bearer 
of ill- tidings; that was human nature. And General Hamp- 
ton brought in the tall stripling to his table, to honour him, 
to get the fullest details, to glory in every item as though 
it all were due to himself. Rolf's wonderful journey was j^ 

dilated on, and in the reports to Albany he was honour- O 

ably mentioned for exceptionally meritorious service as -^cout 
a bearer of despatches. Sioutm^ 

For three days Flying Kittering was hero of the post; 
then other runners came with other news and life went on. 

Hitherto the scouts had worn no uniform, but the 
execution of one of their number, who was captured by the 
British and treated as a spy, resulted in orders that all be 
formally enlisted and put in uniform. 

Not a few withdrew from the service; some, like Quonab, 
reluctantly consented, but Rolf was developing the fighting 
spirit, and was proud to wear the colours. 

The drill was tedious enough, but it was of short dura- 

359 



Rolf in the Woods 

don for him. Despatches were to go to Albany. The 
general, partly to honour Rolf, selected him. 

*^Are you ready for another run, Kittering?" 

^'Yes, sir." 

^'Then prepare to start as soon as possible for Fort 
George and Albany. Do you want a mate? " 

"I should like a paddler as far as Fort George." 

"Well, pick your man." 

"Quonab." 

And when they set out, for the first time Rolf was in the 
stern, the post of guidance and command. So once more 
the two were travelling again with Skookum in the bow. 
It was afternoon when they started and the four-mile 
passage of the creek was slow, but down the long, glorious 
vista of the noble George they went at full canoe-flight, 
five miles an hour, and twenty-five miles of the great 
fair-way were reeled and past when they lighted their 
nightly fire. 

At dawn-cry of the hawk they sped away, and in spite 
of a rising wind they made six miles in two hours. 

As they approached the famiHar landing of Van Trum- 
per's farm, Skookum began to show a most zestful interest 
that recalled the blackened pages of his past. "Quonab, 
better use that," and Rolf handed a line with which Skoo- 
kum was secured and thus led to make a new record, for 
this was the first time in his life that he landed at Van 
Trumper's without sacrificing a chicken in honour of the 
joyful occasion. 

They entered the house as the family were sitting down 
to breakfast. i 

360 



Van Trumper^s Again 

"Mein Hemel! mein Hemel! It is Rolf and Quonab; 
and vere is dot tarn dog? Marta, vere is de chickens? 
Vy, Rolf, you bin now a giant, yah. Mein Gott, it 
is I am glad! I did tink der cannibals you had eat; is it 
dem Canadian or cannibal? I tink it all one the same, 
yah!" 

Marta was actually crying, the little ones were climbing 
over Rolf's knee, and Annette, tall and sixteen now, stood 
shyly by, awaiting a chance to shake hands. 

Home is the abiding place of those we love; it may be 
a castle or a cave, a shanty or a chateau, a moving van, 
a tepee, or a canal boat, a fortress or the shady side of a 
bush, but it is home, if there indeed we meet the faces 
that are ever in the heart, and find the hands whose 
touch conveys the friendly glow. Was there any other 
spot on earth where he could sit by the fire and feel that 
''hereabout are mine own, the people I love ?" Rolf knew 
it now — Van Trumper's was his home. 

Talks of the war, of disasters by land, and of glorious 
victories on the sea, where England, long the unquestioned 
mistress of the waves, had been humbled again and again 
by the dauntless seamen of her Western blood; talks 
of big doings by the nation, and, yet more interesting, 
small doings by the travellers, and the breakfast passed 
all too soon. The young scout rose, for he was on duty, 
but the long rollers on the lake forbade the going forth. 
Van's was a pleasant place to wait, but he chafed at the 
delay; his pride would have him make a record on every 
journey. But wait he must. Skookum tied safely to his 
purgatorial post whined indignantly — and with head 

361 




Rolf in the Woods 

cocked on one side, picked out the very hen he would like 
to utilize — as soon as released from his temporary embar- 
rassment. Quonabwent out on a rock to burn some tobacco 
and pray for calm, and Rolf, ever active, followed Van 
to look over the stock and buildings, and hear of minor 
troubles. The chimney was unaccountably given to 
smoking this year. Rolf took an axe and with two blows 
cut down a vigorous growth of shrubbery that stood above 
the chimney on the west, and the smoking ceased. Buck 
ox had a lame foot and would allow no one even to examine 
it. But a skilful ox-handler easily hobbles an ox, throws 
him near some small tree, and then, by binding the lame foot 
to the tree, can have a free hand. It proved a simple mat- 
ter, a deep-sunk, rusty nail. And when the nail was drawn 
and the place washed clean with hot brine, kind nature was 
left in confidence to do the rest. They drifted back to the 
house now. Tomas met them shouting out a mixture of 
Dutch and EngHsh and holding by the cover Annette's 
book of the " Good Girl.'' But its rightful owner rescued 
the precious volume and put it on the shelf. 

"Have you read it through, Annette?" 

"Yes," was the reply, for She had learned to read before 
they left Schuylerville. 

"How do you like it?" 

"Didn't like it a bit; I like ' Robinson Crusoe','* was the 
candid reply. 

The noon hour came, still the white rollers were pounding 
the shore. 

"If it does not calm by one o'clock I'll go on afoot." 
So off he w^ent with the packet, leaving Quonab to follow 

362 



Van Trumper^s Again 

and await his return at Fort George. In Schuyler settle- 
ment he spent the night and at noon next day was in 
Albany. 

How it stirred his soul to see the busy interest, the 
marching of men, the sailing of vessels, and above all to 
hear of more victories on the high seas. What mattered 
a few frontier defeats in the north, when the arrogant foe 
that had spurned and insulted them before the world had 
now been humbled again and again. 

Young Van Cortlandt was away, but the governor's 
reception of him reflected the electric atmosphere — the 
country's pride in her sons. 

Rolf had a matter of his own to settle. At the book- 
seller's he asked for and actually secured a copy of the 
great book — ^'Robinson Crusoe." It was with a thrilHng 
feeling of triumph that he wrote Annette's name in it and 
stowed it in his bag. 

He left Albany next day in the gray dawn. Thanks 
to his uniform, he got a twenty-five mile lift with a traveller 
who drove a fast team, and the blue water was gHnting 
back the stars when he joined Quonab at Fort George, 
some sixty miles away. 

In the calm betwixt star-peep and sun-up they were 
afloat. It was a great temptation to stop at Hendrik's 
for a spell, but breakfast was over, the water was calm, 
and duty called him. He hallooed, then they drew near 
enough to hand the book ashore. Skookum growled, 
probably at the hens, and the family waved their 
aprons as he sped on. Thirty miles of lake and 
four miles of Ticonderoga Creek they passed and the 

363 



Rolf in the Woods 

packet was delivered in four days and three hours since 
leaving. 

The general smiled and his short but amply sufficient 
praise was merely, ''You're a good 'un." 




364 



LXXV 

Scouting in Canada 

THAR is two things/' said Si Sylvanne to the senate, 
" that every national crisis is bound to show up: 
first, a lot o' dum fools in command; second a 
lot o great commanders in the ranks. An' fortunately 
before the crisis is over the hull thing is sure set right, and 
the men is where they oughter be.'' 

How true this was the nation was just beginning to 
learn. The fools in command were already demonstrated, 
and the summer of i8 13 was replete with additional evidence. 
May, June, and July passed with many journeyings 
for Rolf and many times with sad news. The disasters 
at Stony Creek, Beaver Dam, and Niagara were severe 
blows to the army on the western frontier. In June on 
Lake Champlain the brave but reckless Lieutenant Sidney 
Smith had run his two sloops into a trap. Thus the 
Growler and the Eagle were lost to the Americans, and 
strengthened by that much the British navy on the lake. 

Encouraged by these successes, the British north of 
Lake Champlain made raid after raid into American terri- 
tory, destroying what they could not carry off. 

Rolf and Quonab were sent to scout in that country 
and if possible give timely notice of raiders in force. 



Rolf in the Woods 



The Americans were averse to employing Indians in 
warfare; the British entertained no such scruples and had 
many red-skinned allies. Quonab's case, however, was 
unusual, since he was guaranteed by his white partner, 
and now he did good service, for he knew a little French 
and could prowl among the settlers without any one sus- 
pecting him of being an American scout. 

Thus he went alone and travelled far. He knew the 
country nearly to Montreal and late in July was lurking 
about Odletown, when he overheard scattered words of a 
conversation that made him eager for more. "Colonel 
Murray — twelve hundred men — four hundred men '* 

Meanwhile Rolf was hiding in the woods about La Colle 
Mill. Company after company of soldiers he saw enter, 
until at least five hundred were there. When night came 
down, he decided to risk a nearer approach. He left the 
woods and walked cautiously across the open lands about. 

The hay had been cut and most of it drawn in, but there 
was in the middle of the field a hay-cock. Rolf was near 
this when he heard sounds of soldiers from the mill. Soon 
large numbers came out, carrying their blankets. Evi- 
dently there was not room for them in the mill, and they 
were to camp on the field. 

The scout began to retreat when sounds behind showed 
that another body of soldiers was approaching from that 
direction and he was caught between the two. There 
was only one place to hide and that was beneath the hay- 
cock. He lifted its edge and crawled under, but it was 
full of thistles and brambles; indeed, that was why it was 
left, and he had the benefit of all the spines a^^out him. 

366 



'V^V^H^' 




Scouting: in Canada 

His heart beat fast as he heard the clank of arms and 
the trampling; they came nearer, then the voices became 
more distinct. He heard unmistakable evidence too that 
both bodies were camping for the night, and that he was 
nearly surrounded. Not knowing what move was best 
he kept quiet. The men were talking aloud, then they 
began preparing their beds and he heard some one say, 
"There's a hay-cock; bring somp of that." 

A soldier approached to get an armful of the hay, but 
sputtered out a chapter of malediction as his bare hands 
touched the masses of thistle and briers. His companions 
laughed at his mishap. He went to the fire and vowed 
he'd stick a brand in it and back he came with a burning 
stick. 

Rolf was all ready to make a dash for his life as soon 
as the cover should take fire, and he peered up into the 
soldier's face as the latter blew on the brand; but the flame 
had died, the thistles were not dry, and the fire was a fail- 
ure; so, growling again, the soldier threw down the smoking 
stick and went away. As soon as he was safely afar, 
Rolf gathered a handful of soil and covered the red embers. 

It was a critical moment and his waiting alone had 
saved him. 

Two soldiers came with their blankets and spread 
them near. For a time they smoked and talked. One 
of them was short of tobacco; the other said, "Nevermind, 
we'll get plenty in Plattsburg," and they guffawed. 

Then he heard, "As soon as the colonel" and other 
broken phrases. 

It was a most difficult place for Rolf; he was toimented 

367 



Rolf in the Woods 

with thistles in his face and down his neck; he dared 
not change his position; and how long he must stay 
was a problem. He would try to escape when all was 
still. 

The nearer soldiers settled to rest now. All was very 
quiet when Rolf cautiously peeped forth to see two dread- 
ful things : first, a couple of sentries pacing up and down the 
edges of the camp; second, a broad, brilliant, rising moon. 
How horrible that lovely orb could be Rolf never before 
knew. 

Now, what next? He was trapped in the middle of a 
military camp and undoubtedly La CoUe Mill was the ren- 
dezvous for some important expedition. 

He had ample time to think it all over. Unless he 
could get away before day he would surely be discovered. 
His uniform might save his life, but soldiers have an awk- 
ward, hasty way of dealing summarily with a spy — then 
discovering too late that he was in uniform. 

From time to time he peered forth, but the scene was 
unchanged — the sleeping regiment, the pacing sentries, 
the ever-brightening moon. Then the guard was 
changed, and the sentries relieved selected of all places 
for their beds, the bank beside the hay-cock. Again one 
of them went to help himself to some hay for a couch; 
and again the comic anger as he discovered it to be a bed 
of thorns. How thankful Rolf was for those annoying 
things that pricked his face and neck. 

He was now hemmed in on every side and, not knowing 
what to do, did nothing. For a couple of hours he lay 
still, then actually fell asleep. He was awakened by a 

368 



Scouting in Canada 

faint rustling near his head and peered forth to see a couple 
of field mice playing about. 

The moon was very bright now, and the movements 
of the mice were plain; they were feeding on the seeds of 
plants in the hay-cock, and from time to time dashed under 
the hay. Then they gambolled farther off and were mak- 
ing merry over a pod of wild peas when a light form came 
skimming noiselessly over the field. There was a flash, a 
hurried rush, a clutch, a faint squeak, and one of the mice 
was borne away in the claws of its feathered foe. The 
survivor scrambled under the hay over Rolf's face and 
somewhere into hiding. 

The night passed in many short naps. The bugle 
sounded at daybreak and the soldiers arose to make break- 
fast. Again one approached to use a handful of hay for 
fire-kindler, and again the friendly thistles did their part. 
More and more now his ear caught suggestive words and 
sounds — * ^ Plat tsburg " — " the colonel " — etc. 

The breakfast smelt wonderfully captivating — poor 
Rolf was famished. The alluring aroma of coffee per- 
meated the hay-cock. He had his dried meat, but his 
need was water; he was tormented with thirst, and stiff 
and tortured; he was making the hardest fight of his life. 
It seemed long, though doubtless it was less than half an 
hour before the meal was finished, and to Rolf's relief there 
were sounds of marching and the noises were drowned in 
the distance. 

By keeping his head covered with hay and slowly rais- 
ing it, he was safe to take a look around. It was a bright, 
sunny morning. The hay-cock, or thistle-cock, was one 

369 



Rolf in the Woods 

of several that had been rejected. It was a quarter-mile 
from cover; the soldiers were at work cutting timber and 
building a stockade around the mill; and, most dreadful 
to relate, a small dog was prowling about, looking for 
scraps on the scene of the soldiers' breakfast. If that dog 
came near his hiding-place, he knew the game was up. 
At such close quarters, you can fool a man but not a dog. 

Fortunately the breakfast tailings proved abundant, 
and the dog went off to assist a friend of his in making 
sundry interesting smell analyses along the gate posts 
of the stockade. 




Red Acorn. 



370 



LXXVI 
The Duel 

THIS was temporary relief, but left no suggestion 
of complete escape. He lay there till nearly noon 
suffering more and more from the cramped posi- 
tion and thirst, and utterly puzzled as to the next move. 

"When ye don't like whar ye air, git up without any 
fuss, and go whar ye want to be,'' was what Sylvanne once 
said to him, and it came to Rolf with something like a comic 
shock. The soldiers were busy in the woods and around 
the forges. In half an hour it would be noon and they 
might come back to eat. 

Rolf rose without attempting any further concealment, 
then stopped, made a bundle of the stuff that had sheltered 
him^ and, carrying this on his shoulder, strode boldly 
across the field toward the woods. 

His scout uniform was inconspicuous; the scouts on 
duty at the mill saw only one of themselves taking a bundle 
of hay round to the stables. 

He reached the woods absolutely unchallenged. After 
a few yards in its friendly shade, he dropped the thorny 
bundle and strode swiftly toward his own camp. He had 
not gone a hundred yards before a voice of French t3^e 
cried "'Alt," and he was face to face with a sentry whose 
musket was levelled at him. 

371 




Rolf in the Woods 

A quick glance interchanged, and each gasped out the 
other's name. 

"Frangoisla Colle!" 

''Rolf Kittering! Mon Dieu! I ought to shoot you, 
Rolf; I cannot, I cannot! But run, run! I'll shoot over 
your head," and his kindly eyes filled with tears. 

Rolf needed no second hint; he ran like a deer, 
and the musket ball rattled the branches above his 
shoulders. 

In a few mi^nutes other soldiers came running and from 
La Colle they heard of the hostile spy in camp. 

''I shoot; I t'ink maybe I not hit eem; maybe some blood 
dere? No, dat notting." 

There were both runners and trackers in camp. They 
were like bloodhounds and they took up the trail of the 
fugitive. But Rolf was playing his own game now; he 
was "Flying Kittering.'^ A crooked trail is hard to 
follow, and, going at the long stride that had made his 
success, he left many a crook and turn. Before two miles 
they gave it up and the fugitive coming to the river drank 
a deep and cooling draught, the first he had had that day. 
Five miles through is the dense forest that lies between La 
Colle and the border. He struck a creek affiuent of the 
Richeheu River and followed to its forks, which was the 
place of rendezvous with Quonab. 

It was evening as he drew near and after long, attentive 
listening he gave the cry of the barred owl : 

"Wa, wah, wa, wah, 
Wa, wah, wa, hoo6oooo-aw." 

372 ' 



The Duel 

The answer came : a repetition of the last line, and a 
minute later the two scouts were together. 

As they stood, they were startled by a new, sudden 
answer, an e:xact repetition of the first call. Rolf had 
recovered his rifle from its hiding place and instantly 
both made ready for some hostile prowler; then after a 
long silence he gave the final wail like ''hoooo-aw" and 
that in the woods means, "Who are you?'' 

Promptly the reply came: 

^' Wa wdh wa wdh 
Wa wdh wahoooo'awr 

But this was the wrong reply. It should have been only 
the last half. The imitation was perfect, except, perhaps, 
on the last note, which was a trifle too human. But the 
signal was well done; it was an expert calling, either an 
Indian or some thoroughly seasoned scout; yet Quonab was 
not deceived into thinking it an owl. He touched his 
cheek and his coat, which, in the scout sign language, 
means "red coat," i. e., Britisher. 

Rolf and his partner got silently out of sight, each with 
his rifle cocked and ready to make a hole in any red uni- 
form or badge that might show itself. Then commenced a 
very pecuHar duel, for evidently the enemy was as clever as 
themselves and equally anxious to draw them out of cover. 

Wa-wdh-wa hoo6-aw called the stranger, giving the 
right answer in the wrong place. He was barely a hundred 
yards off, and, as the two strained their senses to locate 
him, they heard a faint cHck that told of his approach. 

373 



Rolf in the Woods 

Rolf turned his head and behind a tree uttered again the 
Wa-wdh -wa - hoo which muffled by his position would 
convince the foe that he was retreating. The answer 
came promptly and much nearer: 

Wa - wdh - wa - hoooo-aw. 

Good! the medicine was working. So Rolf softened 
his voice still more, while Quonab got ready to shoot. 

The Wa - wa - hooo-aw that came in answer this time 
was startlingly clear and loud and nearly perfect in intona- 
tion, but again betrayed by the human timbre of the aw, 
A minute or two more and they would reach a climax. 

After another wait, Rolf muffled his voice and gave the 
single hooo-aw, and a great broad- winged owl came swooping 
through the forest, alighted on a tree overhead, peered 
about, then thrilled them with his weird: 
Wa - hoo - wa - hoo 
Wa - hoo- -wa - hoodoo oooo-aw, 
tlTe last note with the singular human quality that had 
so completely set them astray. 










LXXVII 
Why Plattsburg Was Raided 

The owl's hull reputation for wisdom is built up on lookin' wise and keepin' 
mum. — Sayings of Si Sylvanne 

THE owl incident was one of the comedies of their 
life, now they had business on hand. The 
scraps of news brought by Quonab pieced out with 
those secured by Rolf, spelt clearly this: that Colonel 
Murray with about a thousand men was planning a raid 
on Plattsburg. 

Their duty was to notify General Hampton without 
delay, 

Burlington, forty miles away, was headquarters. 
Plattsburg, twenty miles away, was marked for spoil. 

One more item they must add: Was the raid to be by 
land or water? If the latter, then they must know what 
preparations were being made at the British naval station. 
Isle au Noix. They travelled all night through the dark 
woods, to get there, though it was but seven miles away, 
and in the first full light they saw the gallant array of two 
warships, three gunboats, and about fifty long boats, all 
ready, undoubtedly waiting only for a change in the wind, 
which at this season blew on Champlain almost steadily 
from the south. 

375 



/"aUHllNCTOI 



Rolf in the Woods 

A three-hour, ten-mile tramp through ways now fa- 
miliar brought Rolf and his partner to the north of the Big 
Chazy where the canoe was hidden, and without loss of 
time they pushed off for Burlington, thirty miles away. 
The wind was head on, and when four hours later they 
stopped for noon, they had made not more than a dozen 
miles. 

All that afternoon they had to fight a heavy sea; this 
meant they must keep near shore in case of an upset, and 
so lengthened the course; but it also meant that the enemy 
would not move so long as this wind kept up. 

It was six at night before the scouts ran into Burlington 
Harbour and made for Hampton's headquarters. 

His aide received them and, after learning that they 
had news, went in to the general. From the inner room 
now they heard in unnecessarily loud tones the great 
man's orders to, "Bring them in, sah." 

The bottles on the table, his purple visage, and thick- 
tongued speech told how well-founded were the current 
whispers. 

"Raid on Plattsburg? Ha! I hope so. I only hope 
so. Gentlemen," and he turned to his staff, "all I ask 
is a chance to get at them — Ha, Ha ! Here, help yourself, 
Macomb," and the general pushed the decanter to a grave 
young officer who was standing by. 

"No, thank you, sir," was the only reply. 

The general waved his hand, the scouts went out, 
puzzled and ashamed. Was this the brains of the army? 
No wonder our men are slaughtered. 

Now Macomb ventured to suggest: "Have you any 

376 



Why Plattsburg Was Raided 

orders, sir? These scouts are considered quite reKable. 
I understand from them that the British await only a 
change of wind. They have between one thousand and 
two thousand men." 

"Plenty of time in the morning, sah. Plattsburg will 
be the bait of my trap, not one of them shall return alive," 
and the general dismissed his staff that he might fortify 
himself against a threatened cold. 

Another young man, Lieut. Thomas MacDonough, 
the naval commandant, now endeavoured to stir him by a 
sense of danger. First he announced that his long boats 
and gunboats were ready and in six hours he could trans- 
fer three thousand troops from Burlington to Plattsburg. 
Then he ventured to urge the necessity for action. 

Champlain is a lake of two winds. It had blown from 
the south for two weeks; now a north wind was likely to 
begin any day. MacDonough urged this point, but all 
in vain, and, shocked and humiliated, the young man 
obeyed the order "to wait till his advice was asked." 

The next day Hampton ordered a review, not an em- 
barkation, and was not well enough to appear in person. 

The whole army knew now of the situation of affairs, 
and the militia in particular were not backward in express- 
ing their minds. 

Next day, July 30th, the wind changed. Hampton 
did nothing. On the morning of July 31st they heard the 
booming of guns in the north, and at night their scouts 
came with the news that the raid was on. Plattsburg 
was taken and pillaged by a force less than one third of r^ 
those held at Burlington. ^^ 

377 



w 



Hi'u A\ 




Rolf in the Woods 

There were bitter, burning words on the lips of 
the rank and file, and perfunctory rebukes on the lips 
of the young officers when they chanced to over- 
hear. The law was surely working out as set forth by 
Si Sylvanne; "The fools in command, the leaders in the 
ranks.'' 

And now came news of fresh disasters — the battles 
of Beaverdam, Stony Creek, and Niagara River. It was 
the same story in nearly every case — brave fighting men, 
ill-drilled, but dead shots, led into traps by incompetent 
commanders. 

In September Lieutenant Macomb was appointed to 
command at Plattsburg. This proved as happy an omen 
as it was a wise move. Immediately after, in all this 
gloom, came the news of Perry's famous victory on Lake 
Erie, marking a new era for the American cause, followed 
by the destruction of Moravian town and the British army 
which held it. 

Stirred at last to action General Wilkinson sent des- 
patches to Hampton to arrange an attack on Montreal. 
There was no possibility of failure, he said, for the sole 
defence of Montreal was 600 marines. His army consisted 
of 8000 men. Hampton's consisted of 4000. By a 
union of these at the mouth of Chateaugay River, 
they would form an invincible array. 

So it seemed. Rolf had not yet seen any actual fighting 
and began to long for the front. But his powers as a 
courier kept him ever busy bearing despatches. The 
road to Sackett's Harbour and thence to Ogdensburg and 
Covington, and back to Plattsburg he knew thoroughly, 

378 ' 



Why Plattsburg Was Raided 

and in his canoe he had visited every port on Lakes Cham- 
plain and George. 

He was absent at Albany in the latter half of October 
and first of November, but the ill news travelled fast. 
Hampton requested MacDonough to " swoop down on 
Isle au Noix'^ — an insane request, compliance with 
which would have meant certain destruction to the 
American fleet. MacDonough' s general instructions 
were: "Cooperate with the army, but at any price 
retain supremacy of the lake," and he declined to receive 
Hampton's order. 

Threatening court-martials and vengeance on his 
return, Hampton now set out by land; but at Chateaugay 
he was met by a much smaller force of Canadians who 
resisted him so successfully that he ordered a retreat 
and his army retired to Plattsburg. 

Meanwhile General Wilkinson had done even worse. 
His army numbered 8000. Of these the rear guard were 
2500. A body of 800 Canadians harassed their line of 
march. Turning to brush away this annoyance, the 
Americans were wholly defeated at Chrystler's farm and, 
giving up the attack on Montreal, Wilkinson crossed the 
St. Lawrence and settled for the winter at Chateaugay. 

In December, America scored an important advance 
by relieving Hampton of his command. 

As the spring drew near, it was clearly Wilkinson's 
first play to capture LaColle Mill, which had been 
turned into a fortress of considerable strength and a 
base for attack on the American border, some ^\e miles 
away. 

379 



Rolf in the Woods 

Of all the scouts Rolf best knew that region, yet he was 
the one left out of consideration and despatched with 
papers to Plattsburg. The attack was bungled from first 
to last, and when Wilkinson was finally repulsed, it was 
due to Macomb that the retreat was not a rout. 

But good came out of this evil, for Wilkinson was re- 
called and the law was nearly fulfilled — the incompetents 
were gone. General Macomb was in command of the 
land force and MacDonough of the Lake. 




380 



LXXVIII 

Rumours and Papers 

MACDONOUGH'S orders were to hold control of 
the Lake. How he did it will be seen. The 
British fleet at Isle au Noix was slightly stronger 
than his own, therefore he established a navy yard at 
Vergennes, in Vermont, seven miles up the Otter River, 
and at the mouth erected earthworks and batteries. He 
sent for Brown, a famous New York shipbuilder. Brown 
agreed to launch a ship of twenty-four guns in sixty days. 
The trees were standing in the forest on March 2d, the 
keel was laid March 7th, and on April nth the Saratoga 
was launched — forty days after the timbers were green 
standing trees on the hills. 

Other vessels were begun and pushed as expeditiously. 
And now MacDonough's wisdom in choice of the navy 
yard was seen, for a British squadron was sent to destroy 
his infant fleet, or at least sink stone-boats across the exit 
so as to bottle it up. 

But their attempts were baffled by the batteries which 
the far-seeing American had placed at the river's mouth. 

The American victory at Chippewa was followed by 
the defeat at Lundy's Lane, and on August 25th the city 
of Washington was captured by the British and its public 

381 




Rolf in the Woods 

buildings destroyed. These calamities, instead of dampe 
ing the spirits of the army, roused the whole nation at 
last to a realization of the fact that they were at war. 
Fresh troops and plentiful supplies were voted, the dead- 
wood commanders were retired, and the real men revealed 
by the two campaigns were given place and power. 

At the same time. Great Britain, having crushed Napo- 
leon, was in a position to greatly reinforce her American 
army, and troops seasoned in Continental campaigns were 
poured into Canada. 

All summer Rolf was busied bearing despatches. During 
the winter he and Quonab had built a birch canoe on special 
lines for speed; it would carry two men but no baggage. 

With this he could make fully six miles an hour for a 
short time, and average five on smooth water. In this 
he had crossed and recrossed Champlain, and paddled its 
length, till he knew every bay and headland. The over- 
land way to Sackett's Harbour he had traversed several 
times; the trail from Plattsburg to Covington he knew 
in all weathers, and had repeatedly covered its sixty miles 
in less than twenty-four hours on foot. The route he picked 
and followed was in later years the line selected for the 
military highway between these two camps. 

But the chief scene of his activities was the Canadian 
wilderness at the north end of Lake Champlain. Chazy, 
Champlain, Odelltown, La Colle Mill, Isle au Noix, and 
Richelieu River he knew intimately and had also acquired 
a good deal of French in learning their country. 

It was characteristic of General Wilkinson to ignore the 
scout who knew, and equally characteristic of his 

382 



Rumours and Papers 

successors, Izard and Macomb, to seek and rely on the 
best man. 

The news that he brought in many different forms was 
that the British were again concentrating an army to strike 
at Plattsburg and Albany. 

Izard on the land at Plattsburg and Champlain, and 
Macomb at Burlington strained all their resources to 
meet the invader at fair terms. Izard had 4000 men 
assembled, when an extraordinary and devastating order 
from Washington compelled him to abandon the battle 
front at Champlain and lead his troops to Sackett's Har- 
bour where all was peace. He protested like a statesman, 
then obeyed like a soldier, leaving Macomb in command 
of the land forces of Lake Champlain, with, all told, some 
3400 men. 

On the day that Izard left Champlain, the British troops, 
under Brisbane, advanced and occupied his camp. 

As soon as Rolf had seen them arrive, and had gauged 
their number, he sent Quonab back to report, and later 
retired by night ten miles up the road to Chazy. He was 
well known to many of the settlers and was welcome where- 
ever known, not only because he was a patriot fighting 
his country's battles, but for his own sake, for he was 
developing into a handsome, alert, rather silent youth. 
It is notorious that in the drawing-room, given equal 
opportunity, the hunter has the advantage over the farmer. 
He has less self -consciousness, more calm poise. He is 
not troubled about what to do with his feet and hands, 
and is more convinced of his native dignity and claims to 
respect. In the drawing-room Rolf was a hunter; the 

383 



Rolf in the Woods 

leading inhabitants of the region around received him 
gladly and honoured him. He was guest at Judge HubbelFs 
in Chazy, in September of 1814. Every day he scouted 
in the neighbourhood and at night returned to the hos- 
pitable home of the judge. 

On the 12 th of September, from the top of a tall tree 
on a distant wooded hill, he estimated the force at Cham- 
plain to be 10,000 to 15,000 men. Already their body- 
guard was advancing on Chazy. 

Judge Hubbell and anxious neighbours hastily assem- 
bled now, discussed with Rolf the situation and above all, 
*'What shall we do with our families?" One man broke 
into a storm of hate and vituperation against the British. 
"Remember the burning of Washington and the way they 
treated the women at Bladensburg." 

"All of which about the women was utterly disproved, 
except in one case, and in that the criminal was shot by 
order of his own commander," retorted Hubbell. 

At Plattsburg others maintained that the British had 
harmed no one. Colonel Murray had given strict orders 
that all private property be absolutely respected. Noth- 
ing but government property was destroyed and only 
that which could be construed into war stores and build- 
ings. What further damage was done was the result of 
accident or error. Officers were indeed quartered on the 
inhabitants, but they paid for what they got, and even a 
carpet destroyed by accident was replaced months after- 
ward by a British officer who had not the means at the 
time. 

So it was agreed that Hubbell with Rolf and the village 

384 




Rumours and Papers 

fathers and brothers should join their country's army, 
leaving wives and children behind. 

There were wet bearded cheeks among the strong, 
rugged men as they kissed their wives and little ones and 
prepared to go, then stopped, as horrible misgivings rose 
within. "This was war, and yet again, *We have had 
proofs that the British harmed no woman or child'." 
So they dashed away the tears, suppressed the choking 
in their throats, shouldered their guns, and marched away 
to the front, commending their dear ones to the mercy 
of God and the British invaders. 

None had any cause to regret this trust. Under pain 
of death, Sir George Prevost enforced his order that the 
persons of women and children and all private property 
be held inviolate. As on the previous raid, no damage 
was done to non-combatants, and the only hardships 
endured were by the few who, knowing nothing, feared 
much, and sought the precarious safety of life among the 
hills. 

Sir George Prevost and his staff of ten officers were quar- 
tered in Judge Hubbell's house. Mrs. Hubbell was hard 
put to furnish them with meals, but they treated her with 
perfect respect, and every night, not knowing how long 
they might stay, they left on the table the price of their 
board and lodging. 

For three days they waited, then all was ready for the 
advance. 

"Now for Plattsburg this week and Albany next, so 
good-bye, madam" they said politely, and turned to ride 
away, a gay and splendid group. 

38s 



Rolf in the Woods 



J 



^^ Good-bye, sirs, for a very little while, but I kno 
you'll soon be back and hanging your heads as you come," 
was the retort. 

Sir George replied: "If a man had said that, I would 
call him out; but since it is a fair lady that has been our 
charming hostess, I reply that when your prophecy comes 
true, every officer here shall throw his purse on your door 
step as he passes." 

So they rode away, 13,000 trained men with nothing 
between them and Albany but 2000 troops, double 
as many raw militia, and — MacDonough of the 
Lake. 

Ten times did Rolf cover that highway north of Platts- 
burg in the week that followed, and each day/ his tidings 
were the same — the British steadily advance. 




386 



LXXIX 
McGIassin^s Exploit 

THERE was a wonderful spirit on everything hx 
Plattsburg, and the earthly tabernacle in which 
it dwelt, was the tall, grave young man who had 
protested against Hampton's behaviour at Burlington 
— Captain, now General Macomb. Nothing was neg- 
lected, every emergency was planned for, every available 
man was under arms. Personally tireless, he was ever 
alert and seemed to know every man in his command; 
and every man of it had implicit confidence in the leader. 
We have heard of soldiers escaping from a besieged fortress 
by night; but such was the inspiring power of this com- 
mander that there was a steady leaking in of men from the 
hills, undrilled and raw, but of superb physique and dead 
shots with the rifle. 

A typical case was that of a sturdy old farmer who was 
marching through the woods that morning to take his 
place with those who manned the breastworks and was 
overheard to address his visibly trembHng legs: ^^ Shake, 
damn you, shake; and if ye knew where I was leading you, 
you'd be ten times worse." 

His mind was more valiant than his body, and his mind 
*cept control — this is true courage. 

3^7 



Rolf in the Woods 

No one had a better comprehension of all this than 
Macomb. He knew that all these men needed was a 
little training to make of them the best soldiers on earth. 
To supply that training he mixed them with veterans, 
and arranged a series of unimportant skirmishes as coolly 
and easily as though he were laying out a programme for 
an evening's entertainment. 

The first of these was at Culver's Hill. Here a barricade 
was thrown up along the highway, a gun was mounted, 
and several hundred riflemen were posted under leaders 
skilled in the arts of harrying a foe and giving him no 
chance to strike back. 

Among the men appointed for the barricade's defence 
was Rolf and near him Quonab. The latter had been 
seasoned in the Revolution, but it was the former's first 
experience at the battle front, and he felt as most men do 
when the enemy in brave array comes marching up. As 
soon as they were within long range, his leader gave the 
order "Fire!" The rifles rattled and the return fire came 
at once. BaUs pattered on the barricade or whistled above. 
The man next to him was struck and dropped with a 
groan; another fell back dead. The horror and roar were 
overmuch. Rolf was nervous enough when he entered 
the fight. Now he was unstrung, almost stunned, his 
hands and knees were shaking, he was nearly panic-stricken 
and could not resist the temptation to duck, as the balls 
hissed murder over his head. He was blazing away, 
without aiming, when an old soldier, noting his white face 
and shaking form, laid a hand on his shoulder and, in 
kindly tones, said: ''Steady, boy, steady; y^r losing yer 

388 




McGIassin^s Exploit 

head; see, this is how," and he calmly took aim, then, 
without firing, moved the gun again and put a little stick 
to raise the muzzle and make a better rest, then fired 
as though at target practice. "Now rest for a minute. 
Look at Quonab there; you can see he's been through it 
before. He is making a hit with every shot." 

Rolf did as he was told, and in a few minutes his colour 
came back, his hand was steady, and thenceforth he 
began to forget the danger and thought only of doing his 
work. 

When at length it was seen that the British were prepar- 
ing to charge, the Americans withdrew quickly and safely 
to Halsey's Corner, where was another barricade and a 
fresh lot of recruits awaiting to receive their baptism of 
fire. And the scene was repeated. Little damage was 
done to the foe but enormous benefit was gained by the 
Americans, because it took only one or two of these skir- 
mishes to turn a lot of shaky-kneed volunteers into a band 
of steady soldiers — for they had it all inside. Thus their 
powder terror died. 

That night the British occupied the part of the town that 
was north of the Saranac, and began a desultory bombard- 
ment of the fortification opposite. Not a very serious 
one, for they considered they could take the town at any 
time, but preferred to await the arrival of their fleet 
under Downie. 

The fight for the northern half of the town was not 
serious, merely part of Macomb's prearranged training 
course; but when the Americans retired across the Saranac, 
the planks of the bridges were torn up, loop-holed barri- 

389 



Rolf in the Woods 

cades were built along the southern bank, and no effort 
spared to prepare for a desperate resistance. 

Every man that could hold up a gun was posted on the 
lines of Plattsburg. The school-boys, even, to the number 
of five hundred formed a brigade, and were assigned to 
places where their squirrel-hunting experiences could be 
made of service to their country. 

Meanwhile the British had established a battery oppo- 
site Fort Brown. It was in a position to do some material 
and enormous moral damage. On the ninth it was nearly 
ready for bloody work, and would probably begin next 
morning. That night, however, an extraordinary event 
took place, and showed how far from terror-palsy 
were the motley troops in Plattsburg. A sturdy Ver- 
monter, named Captain McGlassin, got permission of Ma- 
comb to attempt a very Spartan sortie. 

He called for fifty volunteers to go on a most hazardous 
enterprise. He got one thousand at once. Then he 
ordered all over twenty-five and under eighteen to retire. 
This reduced the number to three hundred. Then, all 
married men were retired, and thus again they were halved. 
Next he ordered away all who smoked — Ah, deep phi* 
losopher that he was ! — and from the remnant he selected 
his fifty. Among them was Rolf. Then he divulged his 
plan. It was nothing less than a dash on the new-made 
fort to spike those awful guns — fifty men to dash into 
a camp of thirteen thousand. 

Again he announced, ^'Any who wish to withdraw now 
may do so.'' Not a man stirred. 

Twenty of those known to be expert with tools were 

390 



McGIassin^s Exploit 

provided with hammers and spikes for the guns, and Rolf 
was proud to be one of them. 

In a night of storm and blackness they crossed the 
Saranac; dividing in two bodies they crawled unseen, one 
on each side of the battery. Three hundred British sol- 
diers were sleeping near, only the sentries peered into the 
storm-sleet. 

All was ready when McGlassin's tremendous voice was 
heard, "Charge front and rear!" Yelling, pounding, 
making all the noise they could, the American boys rushed 
forth. The British were completely surprised, the sen- 
tries were struck down, and the rest assured that Macomb's 
army was on them recoiled for a few minutes. The sharp 
click, click, click of the hammers was heard. An iron 
spike was driven into every touch hole; the guns were 
made harmless as logs and quickly wheeling, to avoid the 
return attack, these bold Yankee boys leaped from the 
muzzled redoubt and reached their own camp without 
losing one of their number. 



"^mi iimm r 



m 



'iWl'"'"^ 

\ 




391 



LXXX 
The Bloody Saranac 

SIR GEORGE PREVOST had had no intention 
of taking Plattsburg, till Plattsburg's navy- 
was captured. But the moral effect of McGlas- 
sin's exploit must be offset at once. He decided to carry 
the city by storm — a matter probably of three hours' 
work. 

He apportioned a regiment to each bridge, another to 
each ford near the town, another to cross the river at 
Pike's Cantonment, and yet another to cross twenty miles 
above, where they were to harry the fragments of the 
American army as it fled. 

That morning Plattsburg was wakened by a renewal 
of the bombardment. The heavy firing killed a few men, 
knocked down a few walls and chimneys, but did little 
damage to the earthworks. 

It was surprising to all how soon the defenders lost their 
gun-shyness. The very school-boys and their sisters went 
calmly about their business, with cannon and musket 
balls whistling overhead, striking the walls and windows, 
or, on rare occasions, dropping some rifleman who was 
over-rash as he worked or walked on the ramparts. 

There were big things doing in the British camp — 

392 



The Bloody Saranac 

regiments marching and taking their places — storms of 
rifle and cannon balls raging fiercely. By ten o'clock there 
was a lull. The Americans, from the grandfathers to the 
school-boys, were posted, each with his rifle and his pouch 
full of balls; there were pale faces among the youngsters, 
and nervous fingers, but there was no giving way. Many 
a man there was, no doubt, who, under the impulse of 
patriotism, rushed with his gun to join the ranks, and 
when the bloody front was reached, he wished in his heart 
he was safe at home. But they did not go. Something 
kept them staunch. 

Although the lines were complete all along the ramparts, 
there were four places where the men were massed. 
These were on the embankments opposite the bridges and 
the fords. Here the best shots were placed and among 
them was Rolf, with others of McGlassin's band. 

The plank of the bridges had been torn up and used 
with earth to form breastworks; but the stringers of the 
bridges were there, and a body of red-coats approaching, 
each of them showed plainly what their plan was. 

The farthest effective range of rifle fire in those days was 
reckoned at a hundred yards. The Americans were ordered 
to hold their fire till the enemy reached the oaks, a grove one 
hundred yards from the main bridge — on the other bank. 

The British came on in perfect review-day style. Now 
a hush fell on all. The British officer in command was 
heard clearly giving his orders. How strange it must have 
been to the veterans of wars in Spain, France, and the 
Rhine, to advance against a force with whom they needed 
no interpreter. 

393 



Rolf in the Woods 

McGlassin's deep voice now rang along the defences, 
^' Don't fire till I give the order." 

The red-coats came on at a trot, they reached the 
hundred-yard-mark. 

*'Now, aim low and fire!" from McGlassin, and the 
rattle of the Yankee guns was followed by reeling ranks of 
red in the oaks. 

"Charge!" shouted the British officer and the red-coats 
charged to the bridge, but the fire from the embankment 
was incessant; the trail of the charging men was cluttered 
with those who fell. 

"Forward!" and the gallant British captain leaped on 
the central stringer of the bridge and, waving his sword, 
led on. Instantly three lines of men were formed, one on 
each stringer. 

They were only fifty yards from the barricade, with 
five hundred rifles, all concentrated on these stringers. 
The first to fall was the captain, shot through the heart, 
and the river bore him away. But on and on came the 
three ranks into the whistling, withering fire of lead. It 
was like slaughtering sheep. Yet on and on they marched 
steadily for half an hour. Not a man held back or turned, 
though all knew they were marching to their certain death. 
Not one of them ever reached the centre of the span, and 
those who dropped, not dead, were swallowed by the 
swollen stream. How many hundred brave men were sacri- 
ficed that day, no one ever knew. He who gave the word 
to charge was dead with his second and third in command 
and before another could come to change the order, the 
river ran red — the bloody Saranac they call it ever since. 

394 



The Bloody Saranac 

The regiment was wrecked, and the assault for the time 
was over. 

Rolf had plied his rifle with the rest, but it sickened him 
to see the horrible waste of human valour. It was such 
ghastly work that he was glad indeed when a messenger 
came to say he was needed at headquarters. And in an 
hour he was crossing the lake with news and instructions 
for the officer in command at Burlington. 



s0MMmM 




395 



LXXXI y 

The Battle of Plattsfaurg 



1 



IN BROAD daylight he skimmed away in his one- 
man canoe. 
For five hours he paddled, and at star-peep he 
reached the dock at Burhngton. The howl of a lost dog 
caught his ear; and when he traced the sound, there, on 
the outmost plank, with his nose to the skies, was the 
famiHar form of Skookum, wailing and sadly alone. 

What a change he showed when Rolf landed; he barked, 
leaped, growled, tail-wagged, head-wagged, feet-wagged, 
body-wagged, wig- wagged and zigzagged for joy; he raced 
in circles, looking for a sacrificial hen, and finally uttered 
a long and conversational whine that doubtless was full 
of information for those who could get it out. 

Rolf delivered his budget at once. It was good news, 
but not conclusive. Everything depended now on Mac- 
Donough. In the morning all available troops should 
hurry to the defence of Plattsburg; not less than fifteen 
hundred men were ready to embark at daylight. 

That night Rolf slept with Skookum in the barracks. 
At daybreak, much to the latter's disgust, he was locked 
up in a cellar, and the troops embarked for the front. 

It was a brisk north wind they had to face in crossing 

396 



The Battle of Plattsburg 

and passing down the lake. There were many sturdy 
oarsmen at the sweeps, but they could not hope to reach 
their goal in less than five hours. 

When they were half way over, they heard the cannon 
roar; the booming became incessant; without question, a 
great naval battle was on, for this north wind was what 
the British had been awaiting. 

The rowers bent to their task and added to the speed. 
Their brothers were hard pressed; they knew it, they must 
make haste. The long boats flew. In an hour they could 
see the masts, the sails, the smoke of the battle, but nothing 
gather of the portentous result. Albany and New York, 
as well as Plattsburg, were in the balance, and the oars- 
men rowed and rowed and rowed. 

The cannon roared louder and louder, though less con- 
tinuously, as another hour passed. Now they could see 
the vessels only four miles away. The jets of smoke 
were intermittent from the guns; masts went down. They 
could see it plainly. The rowers only set their Hps and 
rowed and rowed and rowed. 

Sir George had reckoned on but one obstacle in his 
march to Albany, an obstruction named MacDonough; 
but he now found there was another called Macomb. 

It was obviously a waste of men to take Plattsburg by 
front assault, when he could easily force a passage of 
the river higher up and take it on the rear; and it was 
equally clear that when his fleet arrived and crushed the 
American fleet, it would be a simple matter for the war 
vessels to blow the town to pieces, without risking a man. 

397 




Rolf in the Woods 




miih 



Already a favouring wind had made it possible for Downie 
to leave Isle au Noix and sail down the lake with his gallant 
crew, under gallant canvas clouds. 

Tried men and true in control of every ship, out-num- 
bering MacDonough, outweighing him, outpointing him 
in everything but seamanship, they came on, sure of 
success. 

Three cliief moves were in MacDonough's strategy. He 
anchored to the northward of the bay, so that any fleet 
coming down the lake would have to beat up against the 
wind to reach him; so close to land that any fleet trying 
to flank him would come within range of the forts; and left 
only one apparent gap that a foe might try to use, a gap 
in front of which was a dangerous sunken reef. This was 
indeed a baited trap. Finally he put out cables, kedges, 
anchors, and springs, so that with the capstan he could 
turn his vessels and bring either side to bear on the 
foe. 

All was ready, that morning of September the nth, 
as the British fleet, ably handled, swung around the Cum- 
berland Head. 

The young commander of the Yankee fleet now kneeled 
bareheaded with his crew and prayed to the God of Battles 
as only those going into battle pray. The gallant foe 
came on, and who that knows him doubts that he, too, 
raised his heart in reverent prayer? The first broadside 
from the British broke open a chicken coop on the Sara- 
toga from which a game-cock flew, and, perching on a 
gun, flapped his wings and crowed; so all i the seamen 
cheered at such a happy omen. 

398 



The Battle of Plattsburg 

Then followed the fighting, with its bravery and its 
horrors — its brutish wickedness broke loose. 

Early in the action, the British sloop, Finch, fell into 
MacDonough's trap and grounded on the reef. 

The British commander was killed, with many of his 
officers. Still, the heavy fire of the guns would have 
given them the victory, but for MacDonough's foresight 
in providing for swinging his ships. When one broad- 
side was entirely out of action, he used his cables, 
kedges, and springs, and brought the other batteries to 
bear. 

It was one of the most desperate naval fights the world 
has ever seen. Of the three hundred men on the British 
flag-ship not more than five, we are told, escaped uninjured; 
and at the close there was not left on any one of the eight 
vessels a mast that could carry sail, or a sail that could 
render service. In less than two hours and a half the fight 
was won, and the British fleet destroyed. 

To the God of Battles each had committed his cause: 
and the God of Battles had spoken. 

Far away to the southward in the boats were the Ver- 
mont troops with their general and Rolf in the foremost. 
Every sign of the fight they had watched as men whose 
country's fate is being tried. 

It was a quarter after eleven when the thunder died 
away; and the Vermonters were headed on shore, for a 
hasty landing, if need be, when down from the peak of 
the British flag-ship went the Union Jack, and the Stars 
and Stripes was hauled to take its place. 

''Thank God!" a soft, murmuring sigh ran through all 

399 



Rolf In the Woods 

the boats and many a bronzed and bearded cheek was wet 
with tears. Each man clasped hands with his neighbour; 
all were deeply moved, and even as an audience melted 
renders no applause, so none felt any wish to vent his 
deep emotion in a cheer. 



400 



LXXXll 



Scouting for Macomb 

GENERAL MACOMB knew that Sir George 
Prevost was a cautious and experienced com- 
mander. The loss of his fleet would certainly make 
a radical change in his plans, but what change? Would 
he make a flank move and dash on to Albany, or retreat 
to Canada, or entrench himself to await reinforcements at 
Plattsburg, or try to retrieve his laurels by an overwhelm- 
ing assault on the town? 

Whatever his plan, he would set about it quickly, and 
Macomb studied the enemy's camp with a keen, discerning 
eye, but nothing suggesting a change was visible when the 
sun sank in the rainy west. 

It was vital that he know it at once when an important 
move was begun, and as soon as the night came down, 
a score of the swiftest scouts were called for. All were 
young men; most of them had been in McGlassin's 
band. Rolf was conspicuous among them for his tall 
figure, but there was a Vermont boy named Seymour, 
who had the reputation of being the swiftest runner of 
them all. 

They had two duties laid before them: first, to find 
whether Prevost's army was really retreating; second, 

401 




Rolf in the Woods 

what of the regiment he sent up the Saranac to perform 
the flank movement. 

Each was given the country he knew best. Some went 
westerly, some followed up the river. Rolf, Seymour, 
and Fiske, another Vermonter, skimmed out of Platts- 
burg harbour in the dusk, rounded Cumberland Bend, 
and at nine o'clock landed at Point au Roche, at the 
north side of TreadwelFs Bay. 

Here they hid the canoe and agreeing to meet again at 
midnight, set off in three different westerly directions to 
strike the highway at different points. Seymour, as the 
fast racer, was given the northmost route; Rolf took the 
middle. Their signals were arranged — in the woods the 
barred-owl cry, by the water the loon; and they parted. 

The woods seemed very solemn to Rolf that historic 
September night, as he strode along at speed, stopping 
now and again when he thought he heard some signal, 
and opened wide his mouth to relieve his ear-drums of 
the heart-beat or to still the rushing of his breath. 

In half an hour he reached the high-road. It was de- 
serted. Then he heard ^ cry of the barred owl: 

Wa — wdh — wa — wdh 

Wa — wdh — wa — hooooo-aw. 

He replied with the last line, and the answer camera 
repeat of the whole chant, showing that it might be owl, 
it might be man; but it was not the right man, for the final 
response should have been the hooooo-aw, Rolf never 
knew whence it came, but gave no further heed. 

402 



Scouting for Macomb 



For a long time he sat in a dark corner, where he could 
watch the road. There were sounds of stir in the direc- 
tion of Plattsburg. Then later, and much nearer, a 
couple of shots were fired. He learned afterward that 
those shots were meant for one of his friends. At length 
there was a faint tump ta tump ta. He drew his knife, 
stuck it deep in the ground, then held the handle in his 
teeth. This acted like a magnifier, for now he heard it 
plainly enough — the sound of a horse at full gallop — 
but so far away that it was five minutes before he could 
clearly hear it while standing. As the sound neared, he 
heard the clank of arms, and when it passed, Rolf knew 
that this was a mounted British officer. But why, and 
whither? 

In order to learn the rider's route, Rolf followed at a 
trot for a mile. This brought him to a hilltop, whither 
in the silent night, that fateful north wind carried still 
the sound 

te — rump te — rump te — rump. 




As it was nearly lost, Rolf used his knife again; that 
brought the rider back within a mile it seemed, and again 
the hoof beat faded, te — rump te — rump te — rump, 

"Bound for Canada all right,'' Rolf chuckled to himself. 
But there was nothing to show whether this was a 
mere despatch rider, or an advance scout, or a call for 
reinforcements. 

So again he had a long wait. About half-past ten a 
new and larger sound came from the south. The knife 

403 



Rolf in the Woods 

in the ground increased but did not explain it. The night 
was moonless, dark now, and it was safe to sit very near 
the road. In twenty minutes the sound was near at hand, 
in five, a dark mass was passing along the road. There is 
no mistaking the language of drivers. There is never any 
question about such and such a voice being that of an 
English officer. There can be no doubt about the clank 
of heavy wheels — a rich, tangy voice from some one in 
advance said: ^^Oui. Parbleu^ tous ce que je sais, c^est par 
W^ A body of about one hundred Britishers, two or three 
wagons, guns, and a Frenchman for guide. Rolf thought 
he knew that voice; yes, he was almost sure it was the 
voice of Frangois la Colle. 

This was important but far from conclusive. It was 
now eleven. He was due at the canoe by midnight. He 
made for the place as fast as he could go, which, on such 
a night, was slow, but guided by occasional glimpses of 
the stars he reached the lake, and pausing a furlong from 
the landing, he gave the rolHng, quivering loon call: 

Ho-o-o-O'Ooo-o 

Ho-o-o-o-ooo-o. 

Hooo-ooo. 

After ten seconds the answer came: 

Ho-o-o-o-o-o-o-o 
H 00-0 00, 

And again after ten seconds Rolf's reply: 

E 00-000, ' 

404 



Scouting for Macomb 

Both his friends were there; Fiske with a bullet-hole 
through his arm. It seemed their duty to go back at once 
to headquarters with the meagre information and their 
wounded comrade. But Fiske made light of his trouble — 
it was a mere scratch — and reminded them that their 
orders were to make sure of the enemy's movements. 
Therefore, it was arranged that Seymour take back Fiske 
and what news they had, while Rolf went on to complete 
his scouting. 

By one o'clock he was again on the hill where he had 
marked the horseman's outward flight and the escorted 
guns. Now, as he waited, there were sounds in the north 
that faded, and in the south were similar sounds that 
grew. Within an hour he was viewing a still larger body 
of troops with drivers and wheels that clanked. There 
were only two explanations possible: Either the British 
were concentrating on Chazy Landing, where, protected 
from MacDonough by the north wind, they could bring 
enough stores and forces from the north to march overland 
independent of the ships, or else they were in full retreat 
for Canada. There was but one point where this could 
be made sure, namely, at the forks of the road in Chazy 
village. So he set out at a jog trot for Chazy, six miles 
away. 

The troops ahead were going three miles an hour. Rolf 
could go five. In twenty minutes he overtook them and 
now was embarrassed by their slowness. What should he 
do? It was nearly impossible to make speed through the 
woods in the darkness, so as to pass them. He was forced 
to content himself by marching a few yards in their rear. 

405 




Roli in the Woods 



Once or twice when a group fell back, he was uncomfort- 
ably close and heard scraps of their talk. 

These left little doubt that the army was in retreat. 
Still this was the mere chatter of the ranks. He curbed 
his impatience and trudged with the troop. Once a man 
dropped back to light his pipe. He almost touched Rolf, 
and seeing a marching figure, asked in unmistakable ac- 
cents *'0i soi, matey, 'ave ye a loight?" 

Rolf assumed the low south country English dialect, 
already familiar through talking with prisoners, and 
repHed: ''Naow, oi oin't a-smowking,'' then gradually 
dropped out of sight. 

They were nearly two hours in reaching Chazy where 
they passed the Forks, going straight on north. Without 
doubt, now, the army was bound for Canada! Rolf sat 
on a fence near by as their footsteps went tramp, tramp, 
tramp — with the wagons, clank, clank, clank, and were 
lost in the northern distance. 

He had seen perhaps three hundred men; there were 
thirteen thousand to account for, and he sat and waited. 
He did not have long to wait; within half an hour a much 
larger body of troops evidently was approaching from the 
south; several lanterns gleamed ahead of them, so Rolf got 
over the fence, but it was low and its pickets offered poor 
shelter. Farther back was Judge Hubbell's familiar abode 
with dense shrubbery. He hastened to it and in a minute 
was hidden where he could see something of the approach- 
ing troops. They were much like those that had gone 
before, but much more numerous, at least a regiment, and 
as they filled the village way, an officer cried **Halt!" 

406 I 



Scouting: for Macomb 

and gave new orders. Evidently they were about to 
bivouac for the night. A soldier approached the picket 
fence to use it for firewood, but an officer rebuked him. 
Other fuel, chiefly fence rails, was found, and a score or 
more of fires were lighted on the highway and in the adjoin- 
ing pasture. Rolf found himself in something like a trap, 
for in less than two hours now would be the dawn. 

The simplest way out was to go in; he crawled quietly 
round the house to the window of Mrs. Hubbell's room. 
These were times of nervous tension, and three or four taps 
on the pane were enough to arouse the good lady. Her 
husband had come that way more than once. 

"Who is it?" she demanded, through a small opening 
of the sash. 

"Rolf Kittering," he whispered, " the place is surrounded 
by soldiers; can't you hide me?" 

Could she? Imagine an American woman saying "No" 
at such a time. 

He slipped in quietly. 

"What news? " she said. "They say that MacDonough 
has won on the Lake, but Plattsburg is taken." 

"No, indeed; Plattsburgh is safe; MacDonough has 
captured the fleet. I am nearly sure that the whole 
British army is retiring to Canada." 

"Thank God, thank God," she said fervently, "I knew 
it must be so; the women have met here and prayed to- 
gether every day, morning and night. But hush!" she 
laid a warning finger on her lips and pointed up toward 
one of the rooms — "British officer," 

She brought two blankets from a press and led up to 

407 



Rolf in the Woods 

the garret. At the lowest part of the roof was a tiny door 
to a lumber closet. In this Rolf spread his blankets, 
stretched his weary limbs, and soon was sound asleep. 

At dawn the bugles blew, the camp was astir. The 
officer in the house arose and took his post on the porch. 
He was there on guard to protect the house. His brother 
officers joined him. Mrs. Hubbell prepared breakfast. 
It was eaten silently, so far as Rolf could learn. They 
paid for it and, heading their regiment, went away north- 
ward, leaving the officer still on the porch. 

Presently Rolf heard a stealthy step in his garret, the 
closed door was pushed open, and Mrs. HubbelFs calm, 
handsome face appeared, as, with a reassuring nod, she 
set down a mug of coffee, some bread, and a bowl of mush 
and milk. And only those who have travelled and fasted 
for twelve hours when they were nineteen know how good 
it tasted. 

From a tiny window ventilator Rolf had a view of the 
road in front. A growing din of men prepared him for 
more troops, but still he was surprised to see ten regi- 
ments march past with all their stores — a brave army, 
but no one could mistake their looks; they wore the de- 
spondent air of an army in full retreat. 



^^^I'jj^ 



408 



LXXXIII 

The Last of Sir George Prevost 

THE battle was over at Plattsburg town, though 
it had not been fought; for the spirit of Mac- 
Donough was on land and water, and it was felt 
by the British general, as well as the Yankee riflemen, as 
soon as the Union Jack had been hauled from the mast 
of the Confiance, 

Now Sir George Prevost had to face a momentous de- 
cision: He could force the passage of the Saranac and 
march on to Albany, but his communications would be 
cut, and he must rely on a hostile country for supplies. 
Every day drew fresh bands of riflemen from the hills. 
Before he could get to Albany their number might exceed 
his, and then what? Unless Great Britain could send a 
new army or a fleet to support him, he must meet the fate 
of Burgoyne. Prevost proposed to take no such chances 
and the night of the nth, eight hours after MacDonough's 
victory, he gave the order '^Retire to Canada." 

To hide the move as long as possible, no change was 
made till after sundown; no hint was given to the be- 
leaguered town; they must have no opportunity to reap the 
enormous advantages, moral and material, of harrying 
a retreating foe. They must arise in the morning to find 

409 



Rolf in the Woods 

the enemy safely over the border. The plan was perfect, 
and would have been literally carried out, had not he 
had to deal with a foe as clever as himself. 

How eagerly Rolf took in the scene on Chazy Road; how 
much it meant ! how he longed to fly at his fastest famous 
speed with the stirring news. In two hours and a half 
he could surely let his leader know. And he gazed with a 
sort of superior pride at the martial pomp and bravery of 
the invaders driven forth. 

Near the last was a gallant array of gentlemen in gor- 
geous uniforms of scarlet and gold; how warlike they 
looked, how splendid beside the ill-clad riflemen of Vermont 
and the rude hunters of the Adirondacks. How much more 
beautiful is an iron sword with jewels, than a sword of plain 
gray steel. 

Dame Hubbell stood in her door as they went by. Each 
and all saluted politely; her guard was ordered to join 
his regiment. The lady waved her sun-bonnet in response 
to their courteous good-bye, and could not refrain from 
calling out: 

^'How about my prophecy. Sir George, and those 
purses?'^ 

Rolf could not see his hostess, but he heard her voice, 
and he saw the astonishing effect : 

The British general reined in his horse. "A gentle- 
man's word is his bond, madam," he said. ''Let every 
offlcer now throw his purse at the lady's feet," and he set 
the example. A dozen rattling thuds were heard and a 
dozen officers saluting, purseless, rode away. 

A round thousand dollars in gold the lady gathered on 

410 



The Last of Sir George Prevost 

her porch that morning, and to this day her grand-kin 
tell the tale. 




411 



LXXXIV 
Rolf Unmasks the Ambush 

ROLF'S information was complete now, and all that 
remained was to report at Plattsburg. Ten 
regiments he had counted from his peep hole. 

The rear guard passed at ten o'clock. At eleven Mrs. 
Hubbell did a little scouting and reported that all was 
quiet as far as she could see both ways, and no enemy in 
sight anywhere. 

With a grateful hand shake he left the house to cover 
the fourteen miles that lay between Chazy and Plattsburg. 

Refreshed and fed, young and strong, the representa- 
tive of a just and victorious cause, how he exulted in that 
run, rejoicing in his youth, his country, his strength, his 
legs, his fame as a runner. Starting at a stride he soon was 
trotting; then, when the noon hour came, he had covered a 
good six miles. Now he heard faint, far shots, and going 
more slowly was soon conscious that a running fight was 
on between his own people and the body of British sent 
westward to hold the upper Saranac. 

True to the instinct of the scout, his first business was 
to find out exactly what and where they were. From a 
thick tree top he saw the red-coats spotting an opening of 
the distant country. Then they were lost sight of in the 

412 



Rolf Unmasks the Ambush 

woods. The desultory firing became volley firing; once or 
twice. Then there was an interval of silence. At length 
a mass of red-coats appeared on the highway within half a 
mile. They were travelling very fast, in full retreat, 
and were coming his way. On the crest of the hill over 
which the road ran, Rolf saw them suddenly drop to the 
ground and take up position to form a most dangerous 
ambuscade, and half a mile away, straggling through the 
woods, running or striding, were the men in the colours 
he loved. They had swept the enemy before them, so far, 
but trained troops speedily recover from a panic, if they 
have a leader of nerve, and seeing a noble chance in the 
angle of this deep-sunk road, the British fugitives turned 
like boars at bay. Not a sign of them was visible to the 
Americans. The latter were suffering from too much 
success. Their usual caution seemed to have deserted 
them, and trotting in a body they came along the narrow 
road, hemmed in by a forest and soon to be hedged with 
cliffs of clay. They were heading for a death-trap. At 
any price he must warn them. He slid down the tree, 
and keeping cover ran as fast as possible toward the 
ambush. It was the only hill near — Beekman's Rise, 
they call it. As far as possible from the red-coats, but still 
on the hill that gave a view, he leaped on to a high stump 
and yelled as he never did before: "Go back, go back! 
A trap! A trap!" And lifting high his outspread hands 
he flung their palms toward his friends, the old-time signal 
for "go back." 

Not twice did they need warning. Like hunted wolves 
they flashed from view in the nearest cover. A harmless 

413 



Rolf in the Woods 

volley from the baffled ambush rattled amongst them, 
and leaping from his stump Rolf ran for life. 

Furious at their failure, a score of red-coats, reloading 
as they ran, came hot-footed after him. Down into cover 
of an alder swamp he plunged, and confident of his speed, 
ran on, dashing through thickets and mudholes. He knew 
that the red-coats would not follow far in such a place, and 
his comrades were near. But the alder thicket ended at 
a field. He heard the bushes crashing close at hand, and 
dashed down a little ravine at whose lower edge the friendly 
forest recommenced. That was his fatal mistake. The 
moment he took to the open there was a rattle of rifles 
from the hill above, and Rolf fell on his face as dead. 

It was after noontide when he fell; he must have lain 
unconscious for an hour; when he came to himself he was 
lying still in that hollow, absolutely alone. The red-coats 
doubtless had continued their flight with the Yankee boys 
behind them. His face was covered with blood. His 
coat was torn and bloody; his trousers showed a ragged 
rent that was reddened and sopping. His head was aching, 
and in his leg was the pain of a cripplement. He knew it 
as soon as he tried to move; his right leg was shattered 
below the knee. The other shots had grazed his arm and 
head; the latter had stunned him for a time, but did no 
deeper damage. 

He lay still for a long time, in hopes that some of his 
friends might come. He tried to raise his voice, but had 
no strength. Then he remembered the smoke signal that 
had saved him when he was lost in the woods. In spite 
of his wounded arm, he got out his flint and st^el, and pre- 

414 



Rolf Unmasks the Ambush 

pared to make a fire. But all the small wood he could reach 
was wet with recent rains. An old pine stump was on 
the bank not far away; he might cut kindling-wood from 
that to start his fire, and he reached for his knife. Alas! 
its case was empty. Had Rolf been four years younger, 
he might have broken down and wept at this. It did 
seem such an unnecessary accumulation of disasters. 
Without gun or knife, how was he to call his friends? 

He straightened his mangled limb in the position of 
least pain and lay for a while. The September sun fell 
on his back and warmed him. He was parched with 
thirst, but only thirty yards away was a little rill. With 
a long and fearful crawling on his breast, he dragged him- 
self to the stream and drank till he could drink no more, 
then rested, washed his head and hands, and tried to 
crawl again to the warm place. But the sun had dropped 
behind the river bank, the little ravine was in shadow, and 
the chill of the grave was on the young man's pain-racked 
frame. 

Shadows crossed his brain, among them Si Sylvanne 
with his quaint sa)angs, and one above all was clear : 

^'Trouble is only sent to make ye do yer best. When 
ye hev done yer best, keep calm and wait. Things is 
comin' all right." Yes, that was what he said, and the 
mockery of it hurt him now. 

The sunset slowly ended; the night wind blew; the 
dragging hours brought gloom that entered in. This 
seemed indeed the direst strait of his lot. Crippled, dying «r::r:.t>^. 
of cold, helpless, nothing to do but wait and die, and from »'.*., !^ 
his groaning lips there came the half-forgotten prayer his fvifH ***\ 

''' §'^ '{ 



- yt 



y 



Rolf in the Woods 

mother taught him long ago, "0 God, have mercy on me!" 
and then he forgot. 

When he awoke, the stars were shining; he was numb 
with cold, but his mind was clear. 

"This is war," he thought, "and God knows we never 
sought it." And again the thought: "When I offered 
to serve my country, I offered my life. I am willing to 
die, but this is not a way of my choosing," and a blessed, 
forgetfulness came upon him again. 

But his was a stubborn-fibred race; his spark of life was 
not so quickly quenched; its blazing torch might waver, 
wane, and wax again. In the chill, dark hour when the 
life-lamp flickers most, he wakened to hear the sweet, 
sweet music of a dog's loud bark; in a minute he heard it 
nearer, and yet again at hand, and Skookum, erratic, 
unruly, faithful Skookum, was bounding around and 
barking madly at the calm, unblinking stars. 

A human "halloo" rang not far away; then others, and 
Skookum barked and barked. 

Now the bushes rustled near, a man came out, kneeled 
down, laid hand on the dying soldier's brow, and his heart. 
He opened his eyes, the man bent over him and softly said, 
"Nibowaka! it's Quonab." 

That night when the victorious rangers had returned 
to Plattsburg it was a town of glad, thankful hearts, and 
human love ran strong. The thrilUng stories of the day 
were told, the crucial moment, the providential way in 
which at every hopeless pass, some easy, natural miracle 
took place to fight their battle and back their country's 

416 ' 



C>^^.::.r:-< 



/ 




In the chill, dark hour ... he heard the sweet music of 
Skookum's bark 



Rolf Unmasks the Ambush 

cause. The harrying of the flying rear-guard, the ambus- 
cade over the hill, the appearance of an American scout 
at the nick of time to warn them — the shooting, and his 
disappearance — all were discussed. 

Then rollicking Seymour and silent Fiske told of their 
scouting on the trail of the beaten foe; and all asked, 
"Where is Kittering?'' So talk was rife, and there was 
one who showed a knife he had picked up near the ambus- 
cade with R. K. on the shaft. 

Now a dark-faced scout rose up, stared at the knife, 
and quickly left the room. In three minutes he stood 
before General Macomb, his words were few, but from his 
heart: 

"It is my boy, Nibowaka; it is Rolf; my heart tells me. 
Let me go. I feel him praying for me to come. Let me 
go, general. I must go.'' 

It takes a great man to gauge the heart of a man who 
seldom speaks. "You may go, but how can you find him 
to-night?" 

"Ugh, I find him," and the Indian pointed to a little, 
prick-eared, yellow cur that sneaked at his heels. 

"Success to you; he was one of the best we had," said 
the general, as the Indian left, then added: "Take a 
couple of men along, and, here, take this," and he held out 
a flask. 

Thus it was that the dawning saw Rolf on a stretcher 
carried by his three scouting partners, while Skookum 
trotted ahead, looking this way and that — they should 
surely not be ambushed this time. 

417 



Rolf in the Woods 

And thus the crowning misfortune, the cuhninating 
apex of disaster — the loss of his knife — the thing of all 
others that roused in Rolf the spirit of rebellion, was the 
way of life, his dungeon's key, the golden chain that haled 
him from the pit* 




418 



LXXXV 
The Hospital^ the Prisoners^ and Home 

THERE were wagons and buckboards to be had, 
but the road was rough, so the three changed 
off as litter-bearers and brought him to the lake 
where the swift and smooth canoe was ready, and two hours 
later they carried him into the hospital at Plattsburg. 

The leg was set at once, his wounds were dressed, he 
was warmed, cleaned, and fed; and when the morning sun 
shone in the room, it was a room of calm and peace. 

The general came and sat beside him for a time, and 
the words he spoke were ample, joyful compensation for 
his wounds. MacDonough, too, passed through the ward, 
and the warm vibrations of his presence drove death from 
many a bed whose inmate's force ebbed low, whose soul 
was walking on the brink, was near surrender. 

Rolf did not fully realize it then, but long afterward 
it was clear that this was the meaning of the well-worn 
words, *'He iilled them with a new spirit." 

There was not a man in the town but believed the war 
was over; there was not a man in the town who doubted 
that his country's cause was won. 

Three weeks is a long time to a youth near manhood, 
but there was much of joy to while away the hours. The 

419 



I 



Rolf in the Woods 

mothers of the town came and read and talked. Ther< 
was news from the front. There were victories on the hig 
seas. His comrades came to sit beside him; Seymour," 
the sprinter, as merry a soul as ever hankered for the 
stage and the red cups of life; Fiske, the silent, and Mc- 
Glassin, too, with his dry, humorous talk; these were the 
bright and funny hours. There were others. There 
came a bright-cheeked Vermont mother whose three sons 
had died in service at MacDonough's guns; and she told 
of it in a calm voice, as one who speaks of her proudest 
honour. Yes, she rejoiced that God had given her three 
such sons, and had taken again His gifts in such a day of 
glory. Had England's rulers only known, that this was 
the spirit of the land that spoke, how well they might 
have asked: '^What boots it if we win a few battles, 
and burn a few towns; it is a little gain and passing; for 
there is one thing that no armies, ships, or laws, or power 
on earth, or hell itself can down or crush — that alone is 
the thing that counts or endures — the thing that permeates 
these men, that finds its focal centre in such souls as that 
of the Vermont mother, steadfast, proud, and rejoicing 
in her bereavement. 

But these were forms that came and went; there were 
two that seldom were away — the tall and supple one of 
the dark face and the easy tread, and his yellow shadow — 
the ever unpopular, snappish, prick-eared cur, that held 
by force of arms all territories at floor level contiguous 
to, under, comprised, and bounded by, the four square 
legs and corners of the bed. 

Quonab's nightly couch was a blanket not far away, 

420 



The Hospital, the Prisoners, and Home 



and his daily, self-given task to watch the wounded and 
try by devious ways and plots to trick him into eating 
ever larger meals. 

Garrison duty was light now, so Quonab sought the 
woods where the flocks of partridge swarmed, with Skoo- 
kum as his aid. It was the latter's joyful duty to find and 
tree the birds, and "yap'' below, till Quonab came up 
quietly with bow and blunt arrows, to fill his game-bag; 
and thus the best of fare was ever by the invahd's bed. 

Rolf's was easily a winning fight from the first, and in 
a week he was eating well, sleeping well, and growing 
visibly daily stronger. 

Then on a fleckless dawn that heralded a sun triumphant, 
the Indian borrowed a drum from the bandsman, and, 
standing on the highest breastwork, he gazed across the 
dark waters to the whitening hills. There on a tiny fire 
he laid tobacco and kinnikinnik, as Gisiss the Shining One 
burnt the rugged world rim at Vermont, and, tapping 
softly with one stick, he gazed upward, after the sacri- 
ficial thread of smoke, and sang in his own tongue: 

''Father, I bum tobacco, I smoke to Thee. 
I sing for my heart is singing." 

Pleasant chatter of the East was current by Rolf's 
bedside. Stories of homes in the hills he heard, tales of 
hearths by far away lakes and streams, memories of golden- 
haired children waiting for father's or brother's return 
from the wars. Wives came to claim their husbands, 
mothers to bring away their boys, to gain again their 

421 



^ 



4^ — 




Rolf in the Woods 

strength at home. And his own heart went back, and ever 
back, to the rugged farm on the shores of the noble George. 

In two weeks he was able to sit up. In three he could 
hobble, and he moved about the town when the days were 
warm. 

And now he made the acquaintance of the prisoners. 
They were closely guarded and numbered over a hundred. 
It gave him a peculiar sensation to see them there. It 
seemed un-American to hold a human captive; but he 
realized that it was necessary to keep them for use as hos- 
tages and exchanges. 

Some of them he found to be sullen brutes, but many 
were kind and friendly, and proved to be jolly good fel- 
lows. 

On the occasion of his second visit, a familiar voice 
saluted him with, *^Well, Rolf! Comment qa va?^* and 
he had the painful joy of greeting Francois la Colle. 

''You'll help me get away, Rolf, won't you?" and the 
little Frenchman whispered and winked. "I have seven 
little ones now on La Riviere, dat have no flour, and tinks 
dere pa is dead." 

''I'll do all I can, Francois," and the picture of the 
desolate home, brought a husk in his voice and a choke in 
his throat. He remembered too the musket ball that by 
intent had whistled harmless overhead. "But, " he added 
in a shaky voice, "I cannot help my country's enemy to 
escape." 

Then Rolf took counsel with McGlassin, told him all 
about the affair at the mill, and McGlassin with a heart 
worthy of his mighty shoulders, entered into the spirit of 

422 



.♦.It. ./ •• v--^ * . 



The Hospital^ the Prisoners, and Home 

the situation, went to General Macomb presenting such a 
tale and petition that six hours later Frangois bearing 
a passport through the lines was trudging away to Canada, 
paroled for the rest of the war. 

There was another face that Rolf recognized — hol- 
low-cheeked, flabby- jowled and purplish-gray. The man 
was one of the oldest of the prisoners. He wore a 
white beard and moustache. He did not recognize Rolf, 
but Rolf knew him, for this was Micky Kittering. How 
he escaped from jail and joined the enemy was an episode 
of the war's first year. Rolf was shocked to see what a 
miserable wreck his uncle was. He could not do him any 
good. To identify him would have resulted in his being 
treated as a renegade, so on the plea that he was an old 
man, Rolf saw that the prisoner had extra accommodation 
and out of his own pocket kept him abundantly supplied 
with tobacco. Then in his heart he forgave him, and kept 
away. They never met again. 

The bulk of the militia had been disbanded after the 
great battle. A few of the scouts and enough men to 
garrison the fort and guard the prisoners were retained. 
Each day there were joyful partings — the men with 
homes, going home. And the thought that ever waxed 
in Rolf came on in strength. He hobbled to headquarters. 
"General, can I get leave — to go" — he hesitated — 
*^home?" 

"Why, Kittering, I didn't know you had a home. But, 
certainly, I'll give you a month's leave and pay to 
date." 

Champlain is the lake of the two winds; the north wind 

423 



Rolf in the Woods 



i 



blows for six months with a few variations, and the south 
wind for the other six months with trifling changes. 

Next morning a bark canoe was seen skimming south- 
ward before as much north wind as it could stand, with 
Rolf reclining in the middle, Quonab at the stern, and 
Skookum in the bow. 

In two days they were at Ticonderoga. Here help 
was easily got at the portage and on the evening of the 
third day, Quonab put a rope on Skookum's neck and they 
landed at Hendrik's farm. 

The hickory logs were blazing bright, and the evening 
pot was reeking as they opened the door and found the 
family gathered for the meal. 

"I didn't know you had a home," the general had said. 
He should have been present now to see the wanderer's 
welcome. If war breeds such a spirit in the land, it is 
as much a blessing as a curse. The air was full of it, and 
the Van Trumpers, when they saw their hero hobble in, 
were melted. Love, pity, pride, and tenderness were 
surging in storms through every heart that knew. "Their 
brother, their son come back, wounded, but proven and 
glorious." Yes, Rolf had a home, and in that intox- 
icating realization he kissed them all, even Annette of 
the glowing cheeks and eyes; though in truth he paid 
for it, for it conjured up in her a shy aloofness that lasted 
many days. 

Old Hendrik sputtered around. "Och, I am smile; 
dis is goood, yah. Vere is that tam dog? Yah! tie him 
not, he shall dis time von chicken have for joy." 

"Marta," said Rolf, "you told me to come here if I got 

424 



The Hospital, the Prisoners, and Home 

hurt. Well, I've come, and I've brought a boat-load of 
stuff in case I cannot do my share in the fields." 

"Pless you, my poy, you didn't oughter brung dot stuiBf; 
you know we loff you here, and effery time it is you coom 
I get gladsomer, and dot Annette she just cried ven you 
vent to de war." 

*'0h, mother, I did not; it was you and little Hendrick!" 
and Annette turned her scarlet cheeks away. 



October, with its trees of flame and gold, was on the 
hills; purple and orange, the oaks and the birches; blue 
blocked with white was the sky above, and the blue, bright 
lake was limpid. 

"Oh, God of my fathers," Quonab used to pray, "when 
I reach the Happy Hunting, let it be ever the Leaf-falling 
Moon, for that is the only perfect time." And in that 
unmarred month of sunny sky and woodlands purged of 
every plague, there is but one menace in the vales. For 
who can bring the glowing coal to the dry-leafed woods 
without these two begetting the dread red fury that 
devastates the hills? 

Who can bring the fire in touch with tow and wonder 
at the blaze? Who, indeed? And would any but a 
dreamer expect young manhood in its growing strength, 
and girlhood just across the blush-line, to meet in daily 
meals and talk and still keep up the brother and sister 
play? It needs only a Virginia on the sea-girt island to 
turn the comrade into Paul. 

"Marta,^ tink dot Rolf an Annette don't quarrel bad, 
ain't it?" 




425 



Rolf in the Woods 

i 

"Hendrik, you vas von blind old bat-mole/' said Marta, \ 
'^I tink dat farm next ours purty good, but Rolf he say *No ! | 
Lake George no good.' Better he Hke all his folks move j 
over on dat Hudson." , : 



426 



LXXXVI 

The New Era of Prosperity 

AS NOVEMBER neared and his leave of ab- 
sence ended, Rolf was himself again; had been, 
indeed, for two weeks, and, swinging fork or 
axe, he had helped with many an urgent job on the 
farm. 

A fine log stable they had, rolled up together, with 
corners dovetailed like cabinet work, and roof of birch 
bark breadths above the hay. 

But there was another building, too, that Rolf had 
worked at night and day. It was no frontier shack, but 
a tall and towering castle, splendid and roomy, filled with 
loved ones and love. Not by the lake near by, not by the 
river of his choice, but higher up than the tops of the high 
mountains it loomed, and he built and built until the month 
was nearly gone. Then only did he venture to ask for aid, 
and Annette it was who promised to help him finish the 
building. 

Yes, the Lake George shore was a land of hungry farms. 
It was off the line of travel, too. It was neither Champlain 
nor Hudson; andHendrik, after ten years' toil with barely 
a living to show, was easily convinced. Next summer 

427 



Rolf in the Woods i 

i 

they must make a new choice of home. But now it was ■ 
back to Plattsburg. ; 

On November ist, Rolf and Quonab reported to General i 
Macomb. There was little doing but preparations for ■ 
the winter. There were no prospects of further trouble , 
from their neighbours in the north. Most of the militia | 
were already disbanded, and the two returned to Platts- ^i 
burg, only to receive their honourable discharge, to be 
presented each with the medal of war, with an extra clasp 
on Rolf's for that dauntless dash that spiked the British i 
guns. i 

Wicked war with its wickedness was done at last. ] 

"The greatest evil that can befall a country," some call i 

it, and yet out of this end came three great goods: The ; 

interstate distrust had died away, for now they were 1 

soldiers who had camped together, who had "drunk from. ; 

the same canteen" ; little Canada, until then a thing of | 

shreds and scraps, had been fused in the furnace, welded | 

into a young nation, already capable of defending her own. ' 

England, arrogant with long success at sea, was taught | 
a lesson of courtesy and justice, for now the foe whom she 

had despised and insulted had shown himself her equal, ] 

SL king of the sea-king stock. The unnecessary battle of ! 

New Orleans, fought two weeks after the war was officially - 

closed, showed that the raw riflemen of Tennessee were j 

more than a match for the seasoned veterans who had over- i 

come the great Napoleon, and thus on land redeemed j 

the Stars and Stripes. j 

^^ The war brought unmeasured material loss on all con- \ 

428 i 



The New Era of Prosperity 

cerned, but some weighty lasting gains to two at least. 
On December 24, 1814, the Treaty of Ghent was signed 
and the long rifles were hung up on the cabin walls. Noth- 
ing was said in the treaty about the cause of war — the 
right of search. Why should they speak of it? If a big 
boy bullies a smaller one and gets an unexpected knock- 
down blow, it is not necessary to have it all set forth in 
terms before they shake hands that ^'I, John, of the first 
part, to wit, the bully, do hereby agree, promise, and con- 
tract to refrain in future forevermore from bullying you, 
Jonathan, of the second part, to wit, the bullied." That 
point had already been settled by the logic of events. 
The right of search was dead before the peace was born, 
and the very place of its bones is forgotten to-day. 

Rolf with Quonab returned to the trapping that winter; 
and as soon as the springtime came and seeding was over, 
he and Van Trumper made their choice of farms. Every 
dollar they could raise was invested in the beautiful slop- 
ing lands of the upper Hudson. Rolf urged the largest 
possible purchase now. Hendrick looked somewhat 
aghast at such a bridge-burning move. But a purchaser 
for his farm was found with unexpected promptness, one 
who was not on farming bent and the way kept opening up. 

The wedding did not take place till another year, when 
Annette was nineteen and Rolf twenty-one. And the 
home they moved to was not exactly a castle, but much 
more complete and human. 

This was the beginning of a new settlement. Given 
good land in plenty, and all the rest is easy; neighbours 

429 



Rolf in the Woods ] 

came in increasing numbers; every claim was taken up;! 
Rolf and Hendrik saw themselves growing rich, and at; 
length the latter was thankful for the policy that he oncej 
thought so rash, of securing all the land he could. Now) 
it was his making, for in later years his grown-up sons] 
were thus provided for, and kept at home. 

The falls of the river offered, as Rolf had foreseen, a. 
noble chance for power. Very early he had started a! 
store and traded for fur. Now, with the careful savings,! 
he was able to build his sawmill ; and about it grew a village^ 
with a post-office that had Rolf's name on the signboard.! 

Quonab had come, of course, with Rolf, but he shunned] 
the house, and the more so as it grew in size. In a remotd 
and sheltered place he built a wigwam of his own. \ 

Skookum was divided in his allegiance, but he solvedj 
the puzzle by dividing his time between them. He did 
not change much, but he did rise in a measure to the) 
fundamental zoological fact that hens are not partridges;] 
and so acquired a haughty toleration of the cackle-partyi 
throng that assembled in the morning at Annette's call.) 
Yes, he made even another step of progress, for on onej 
occasion he valiantly routed the unenlightened dog of aj 
neighbour, a "cur of low degree, " whose ideas of orni-' 
thology were as crude as his own had been in the beginning.? 

All of which was greatly to his credit, for he found it! 
hard to learn now; he was no longer young, and before he' 
had seen eight springs dissolve the snow, he was called to^ 
the Land of Happy Hunting, where the porcupine is not, : 
but where hens abound on every side, and there is no manl 
near to meddle with his joy. i 

430 ] 



U.S. : 


KITTERINOI 
p. 0. j 



The New Era of Prosperity 

Yet, when he died, he lived. His memory was kept 
ever green, for Skookum Number 2 was there to fill his 
room, and he gave place to Skookum 3, and so they keep 
their line on to this very day. 



431 



LXXXVII 



Quonab Goes Home 




The public has a kind of crawlin' common-sense, that is always right andi 
fair in the end, only it's slow — Sayings of Si Sylvanne \ 

TWENTY years went by. Rolf grew and prospered. 
He was a man of substance and of family now; 
for store and mill were making money fast, and 
the little tow- tops came at regular intervals. i 

And when the years had added ripeness to his thought,! 
and the kind gods of gold had filled his scrip, it was that^ 
his ampler life began to bloom. His was a mind of the; 
best begetting, born and bred of ancient, clean-bldodedl 
stock; inflexibly principled, trained by a God-fearing: 
mother, nurtured in a cradle of adversity, schooled in a; 
school of hardship, developed in the big outdoors, wise! 
in the ways of the woods, burnt in the fire of affliction,' 
forced into self-reliance, inspired with the lofty inspiration 
of sacrificial patriotism — the good stuff of his make-up^ 
shone, as shines the gold in the fervent heat; the hardj 
blows that prove or crush, had proved; the metal had] 
rung true; and in the great valley, Rolf Kittering was a; 
man of mark. 

The country's need of such is ever present and even 
seeking. Those in power who know and measure men,; 

432 ! 



Quonab Goes Home 



soon sought him out, and their messenger was the grisly 
old Si Sylvanne. 

Because he was a busy man, Rolf feared to add to his 
activities. Because he was a very busy man, the party 
knew they needed him. So at length it was settled, and 
in a little while, Rolf stood in the Halls of Albany and 
grasped the hand of the ancient mill-man as a colleague, 
filling an honoured place in the councils of the state. 

Each change brought him new activities. Each year 
he was more of a public man, and his life grew larger. 
From Albany he went to New York, in the world of bus- 
iness and men's affairs; and at last in Washington, his tall, 
manly figure was well known, and his good common-sense 
and clean business ways were respected. Yet each year 
during hunting time he managed to spend a few weeks 
with Quonab in the woods. Tramping on their ancient 
trapping grounds, living over the days of their early hunts; 
and double zest was added when Rolf the second joined them 
and Hved and loved it all. 

But this was no longer Kittering's life, rather the rare 
precarious interval, and more and more old Quonab real- 
ized that they were meeting only in the past. When the 
big house went up on the river-bank, he indeed had felt 
that they were at the parting of the ways. His respect 
for Nibowaka had grown to be almost a worship, and yet 
he knew that their trails had yearly less in common. Rolf 
had outgrown him; he was alone again, as on the day of 
their meeting. His years had brought a certain insight; 
and this he grasped — that the times were changed, and 
his was the way of a bygone day. 

433 










^^. 



Rolf in the Woods 

"Mine is the wisdom of the woods," he said, "but 
the woods are going fast; in a few years there will be no 
more trees, and my wisdom will be foolishness. There is 
in this land now a big, strong thing called 'trade,' that will 
eat up all things and the people themselves. You are 
wise enough, Nibowaka, to paddle with the stream, you 
have turned so the big giant is on your side, and his power 
is making you great. But this is not for me; so only I 
have enough to eat, and comfort to sleep, I am content 
to watch for the light." 

Across the valley from the big store he dwelt, in a lodge 
from which he could easily see the sunrise. Twenty-five 
years added to the fifty he spent in the land of Mayn May- 
ano had dimmed his eye, had robbed his foot of its spring, 
and sprinkled his brow with the winter rime; but they had 
not changed his spirit, nor taught him less to love the 
pine woods and the sunrise. Yes, even more than in 
former days did he take his song- drum to the rock of wor- 
ship, to his Idaho — as the western red man would have 
called it. And there, because it was high and the wind 
blew cold, he made a little eastward-facing lodge. 

He was old and hunting was too hard for him, but there 
was a strong arm about him now; he dimly thought of it 
at times — the arm of the fifteen-year-old boy that one 
time he had shielded. There was no lack of food or 
blankets in the wigwam, or of freedom in the woods under 
the sun-up rock. But there was a hunger that not far- 
seeing Nibowaka could appease, not even talk about. 
And Quonab built another medicine lodge to watch the 
sun go down over the hill. Sitting by a little fire to tune 

434 



Quonab Goes Home 

his song-drum, he often crooned to the blazing skies. 
*'I am of the sunset now, I and my people," he sang, 
"the night is closing over us." 

One day a stranger came to the hills; his clothes were 
those of a white man, but his head, his feet, and his eyes — 
his blood, his walk, and his soul were those of a red Indian 
of the West. He came from the unknown with a message 
to those who knew him not: "The Messiah was coming; 
the deliverer that Hiawatha bade them look for. He was 
coming in power to deliver the red race, and his people 
must sing the song of the ghost-dance till the spirit came, 
and in a vision taught them wisdom and his will!" 

Not to the white man, but to the lonely Indian in the 
hill cleft he came, and the song that he brought and taught 
him was of a sorrowing people seeking their father. 

"Father have pity on us! 
Our souls are hungry for Thee. 
There is nothing here to satisfy us 
Father we bow to Thy will." 

By the fire that night they sang, and prayed as the 
Indian prays — "Father have pity and guide us." So 
Quonab sang the new song, and knew its message was for 
him. 

The stranger went on, for he was a messenger, but 
Quonab sang again and again, and then the vision came, 
as it must, and the knowledge that he sought. 

None saw him go, but ten miles southward on the river 
he met a hunter and said: "Tell the wise one that I 

435 



Rolf in the Woods ; 

have heard the new song. Tell him I have seen the vision. \ 
We are of the sunset, but the new day comes. I must see i 
the land of Mayn Mayano, the dawn-land, where the sun j 
rises out of the sea." j 

They saw no more of him. But a day later, Rolf heard j 
of it, and set out in haste next morning for Albany. Skoo- i 
kum the fourth leaped into the canoe as he pushed off. < 
Rolf was minded to send him back, but the dog begged i 
hard with his eyes and tail. It seemed he ought to go, \ 
when it was the old man they sought. At Albany they i 
got news. "Yes, the Indian went on the steamboat a few ; 
days ago." At New York, Rolf made no attempt to track | 
his friend, but took the Stamford boat and hurried to the j 
old familiar woods, where he had lived and suffered and \ 
wakened as a boy. \ 

There was a house now near the rock that is yet called ; 
"Quonab's." From the tenants he learned that in the ' 
stillest hours of the night before, they had heard the j 
beating of an Indian drum, and the cadence of a chant that { 
came not from throat of white man's blood. I 

In the morning when it was light Rolf hastened to the ■ 

place, expecting to find at least an Indian camp, where ; 

once had stood the lodge. There was no camp; and as \ 

he climbed for a higher view, the Skookum of to-day gave \ 

bristling proof of fear at some strange object there — a i 

man that mdted not. His long straight hair was nearly 

white, and by his side, forever still, lay the song-drum of ; 

his people. ; 

And those who heard the mournful strains the m'o^ht i 

i 
b^iore, knew now from Rolf that it was Quonab come ; 

436 1 



Quonab Goes Home 

back to his rest, and the song that he sang was the song 
of the ghost dance. 

"Pity me, Wahkonda. 
My soul is ever hungry. 
There is nothing here to satisfy me, 
I walk in darkness; 
Pity me, Wahkonda!'' 



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